


No Peace In Our Time

by wicked3659



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-War, Quintessons - Freeform, predator - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war ended with both sides having lost too much. Concessions had to be made for peace. Resistance and dissent prevails. Can the former Autobots and Decepticons unite to save their race or allow their differences to divide them and ultimately lead to their extinction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [White Aster (white_aster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/gifts).



> This is not a first person fic despite impressions at the start. It is a monologue but switches to third person quickly.

“Things could not have gotten much worse to be honest. Our race on the brink of extinction. Two worlds torn apart by war. We were on the brink and we needed a miracle. Primus must have been listening.

It happened late into the war. We were looking at massive defeat. Prime was considering surrendering when Megatron's best tactician defected, just walked over enemy lines and surrendered instead. He nearly got shot to death for his trouble. The destruction of Praxus had been the last straw for him I guess. The mech, called Barricade back then, just upped and quit taking all his tactical secrets with him. At first he would speak only to Prime. Nobody trusted him, we thought it was just a trick. If he'd betrayed his leader once then he could do it again. They spent cycles talking in private and when the big guy said he trusted him, we all thought… well it didn't matter what we thought. Optimus trusted him, vouched for him and so we listened and followed. 

The mech became an asset, reserved, seemingly cold but an asset nonetheless. Changed his name to Prowl, apparently that had been his real name all along. Being head of spec ops I got to know him a little better than most and had to work quite close with him. He wasn't so bad, needed serious help improving his social skills and was willing to listen to my advice. Bots started to warm to him, after a few, who am I kidding, a lot of hiccups.

Thanks to him the tide turned and both Megatron and Optimus were eventually forced to agree to a stalemate. There was nothing left to fight over. An uneasy peace was still a victory for most of us. 

It's coming up to our first vorn. It's not been easy. There's still the odd flare up. Usually splinter groups refusing to let the war die. A lot of us decided to stay on earth under Rodimus, help the humans rebuild. Our war almost wiped them out. It took a long time to rebuild that trust with them. That's where I come in. Cybertronian Ambassador to earth and head of Autobot-Decepticon relations. I didn't want the gig but Prowl said there was nobody else suitable. Basically I have the gift of the gab as the humans say. He and Prime are on Cybertron working with Megatron to rebuild a better world. Things are progressing. It's slow progress but baby steps. At least we're not all blowing ourselves to slag now. 

I like to think I've adjusted pretty well to peace. There are nights though where I can't recharge. The past haunts me. Not surprising with all the things I've done but I dream of terrors only found in stories and I wake with my spark pounding in fear. A fear I've not felt since I watched the war start and my planet burn. A fear that our fighting days are not yet done. I know a couple of others who feel it too. Ratchet thinks it's some kind of post war stress and I pray to Primus he's right. Standing here though on this planet I consider home, looking up at those stars, I can't shake that feeling that something is out there and it's coming for us.” Jazz turned and grinned at the younger medic. “Crazy huh?”

First Aid smiled and tapped his stylus. “You are many things, Jazz but crazy isn't one of them.”

“Really?” Jazz laughed. “I think you're the only to ever think that.”

“Well I am the professional after all,” First Aid chuckled. “If you can't trust my opinion then whose can you?”

“You’re the doc, doc,” Jazz glanced up at the sky. He always preferred doing these sessions outside when the weather permitted it. “Can I have a cert’ to prove to certain skeptics I'm officially not crazy?” 

First Aid laughed. “I don't think that'll be necessary. If anyone questions it send them to Ratchet.”

“Nobody likes arguing with Ratchet,” Jazz began to stroll inside with First Aid beside him. “Though he is one of the mechs I want the cert for,” he quipped lightly. 

First Aid laughed and they fell into an amicable silence before the medic asked quietly, “Jazz do you really believe what you said?”

“Hm?”

“About something being out there, something coming?”

Canting his helm at the medic, Jazz pursed his lip components. “Are we still in session?” 

“Off the record.” 

Jazz's visor dimmed. “Yeah, mech. Can't explain it but I believe it. Just keep hoping I'm wrong, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh no reason,” First Aid shrugged, his thoughts drifting to other sessions with different mechs and femmes, some bot some con but all with the same fear. Something was coming. “It’s just fascinating to me that's all,” he replied avoiding Jazz's gaze.

Jazz knew the mech wasn't being entirely truthful but didn't push him on it. He silently hoped he was going crazy, that would be better than the alternative he feared in his spark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine communique goes awry.

Rodimus looked up as his officers entered. They still kept up the weekly briefings to ensure communications were kept open. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with former Decepticons however still took some getting used to, especially for his more seasoned officers. He raised an optic ridge at Jazz. “Glad to see you could make it,” he commented sarcastically. Jazz was notorious for skipping out on meetings, he only ever turned up when there was to be a communique from Cybertron. Rodimus had started not announcing them but Jazz always knew. 

Jazz gave him a lazy salute and grinned as he sat down. “You know I wouldn't miss our monthly check in with the big guy.”

Rodimus shook his helm, Jazz was always going to do things his way and the young Prime had given up trying to change him and instead took a more flexible approach. He'd only relented after advice from Optimus however, who had experienced the same issues. Rodimus had bemoaned the fact that Optimus had a Prowl to help him keep track of the spec ops mech, though nobody knew how he did it. 

The conference room was filled and Rodimus took in the sight of blue and red optics gazing at him expectantly. Looking to their resident communications mech, he nodded. “Soundwave if you would do the honours?”

The visored mech simply nodded and activated the communications link. The viewer flickered to life and Prowl's familiar face appeared on the screen. “Rodimus, everyone,” he greeted politely.

“Good to see you, Prowl. Is Optimus with you?” Rodimus asked.

Looking to someone offscreen briefly, Prowl gave a shake of his helm. “I am afraid he has been waylaid by another matter. He sends his regrets.”

Catching Jazz's frown, Rodimus pressed the matter. “Is it anything serious? Perhaps we can help?” he offered.

The barely perceptible frown on Prowl's faceplates had a couple of the older officers fidgeting. “It appears to be just a small rebellion in the old Kaon provinces. I do not believe it is anything too serious.”

Jazz leaned forward and clasped his hands above the table. “Prowl, what are you not telling us?” he asked quietly, recognising the other mech’s tells when something was bothering him.

Sensor panels flicking just once, Prowl looked momentarily irritated by the question. “I am mostly certain it is nothing.”

“Mostly certain? C’mon mech you only deal in absolutes.”

“I did not want to concern you but seeing as Jazz has raised the issue,” Prowl turned and spoke to someone offscreen. Nodding, he looked back at the audience. “Starscream can explain it better than I.”

Prowl shifted and stood back and the Seeker took his place. 

“We picked up a signal from space just over seven cycles ago. It appeared to be a Cybertronian distress signal. We intercepted it and sent the coordinates to the moon base. If they could make it there we could help them. They were too far into deep space for us to be much help otherwise. The signal source apparently arrived at moon base 2, last cycle,” the scientist paused and glanced at Prowl who nodded sharply. “We lost communications with the moon base shortly after and the signal reappeared in the middle of what used to be Kaon. Prime and Megatron have taken a team to investigate.”

“They both went?” Rodimus asked in surprise.

“Highly irregular,” Soundwave stated. 

Prowl stepped forward. “We tried to reason that only one of the planet’s leaders needed to go but they would not listen, Megatron went to the moon base and Prime went to Kaon, I am sure it is just another rebellion uprising… but...” Prowl’s frown deepened. “We received their last report 2 Earth days ago but since then we've lost all contact, with both parties.”

“And you didn't think this was important to share with us?” Rodimus demanded hotly. 

“Primus, Prowl even for your level of secrecy this is bad,” Ironhide groused, pushing up from his seat. “We can get Astrotrain and Omega Supreme to you in 20 cycles, not to mention support through the space bridge.”

“As I stated, it did not warrant that much concern. Blaster believes he can repair communications and Cosmos is in orbit to try and boost the signal. The communication relays are extremely old and have not been updated due to the war. It is highly probable that this is a fault and I did not want to induce a panic,” Prowl explained stoically. 

“May I have copies of the original signal and communiques?” Perceptor asked hopefully. 

“They've already been transferred to Metroplex’s databases,” Starscream added.

“We were not keeping this from you, Rodimus, we planned to inform everyone of the situation at this meeting. An emergency briefing was unwarranted,” Prowl assured the younger Prime who was looking uncharacteristically somber. 

“Prowl, I know what the numbers are telling you, but what do you feel about this?” Jazz asked gently, “About Prime and Megs running off I mean, without at least listening first or consulting everyone?” 

Prowl hesitated glancing at Starscream who shrugged and made an impatient gesture. “Their behaviour… was highly irregular.”

“And you didn't think that warranted an emergency meeting?” Ironhide boomed. “Primus, Prowl we don't want another war here!”

“Neither do we and nor do they,” Prowl countered defensively. “I am certain they were just concer--” Prowl cut himself off as he was interrupted. He gestured quickly to Starscream and snapped at someone else off screen.

Jazz stood as the screen flickered and went grainy. “Prowl? Prowl talk to us mech!” 

“Inter--pssshtt--- ence psshhfft explosion. We're investigating… pssshtt signal fail--pssshtt…. Primus, it can't pssshtt Blaster, get them back!” 

“Prowl? Prowl!” Jazz shouted at the screen before an audio splitting scream cut through their speakers making every mech wince, then the screen went black. The only sound permeating the room was the white noise from the dead radio.

The room suddenly erupted and mechs were on their feet shouting, questioning, afraid and worried. 

“Mechs please can we have some calm!” Rodimus hollered over the noise. 

Jazz blasted his sonic speakers once and everyone fell silent. 

“Was that a mech's scream?” Ironhide asked gruffly.

Ratchet shook his helm. “I don't think so, it sounded too shrill.”

“How can you tell?” Perceptor whispered, his optics bright with shock. 

“Soundwaves do not correspond with known frequencies of Cybertronian or Earth speech. Frequency: too high, too rapid,” Soundwave explained monotonously. “No corresponding frequency on my database.”

“That's great but it doesn't really tell us anything. Rodimus we need to get a team out there,” Jazz insisted calmly. 

“Interjection: frequency is familiar. Request permission to analyse Metroplex’s and Teletraan’s databases?”

“Granted, Perceptor help Soundwave,” Rodimus ordered. 

“And in the meantime we go to Cybertron right?” Ironhide prompted, fists clenched. 

Rodimus frowned. “We can't leave Earth unprotected. I can't authorise a full mission,” he looked at Jazz. “How many of your original team are still here?” 

“Three maybe four mechs. They've all requested civilian status, I can't just unretire them,” Jazz answered quietly.

“We don't have a choice. You and whomever you can persuade to join you are all I can afford to send. Most of the population here were never soldiers. If you explain that Optimus needs them, I'm sure they'll listen.”

“Rodi, I wouldn't be too sure about that.”

“You're Jazz! Primus frag it, make it happen!” the young Prime snapped. Rubbing his face, he shook his helm. “I'm sorry, Jazz, please just ask.”

Jazz nodded and glanced around the room. “Even if they can't. I'll go, I'll get the Intel,” he declared, his spec ops programming already activating in response to the communique. 

“I'm coming with you,” Ironhide already had his cannon in hand. 

“Me too,” Ratchet spoke up looking at Rodimus. “They might need another medic and Aid is more than capable of looking after Earth until I get back.”

“You'll need our support,” Onslaught rumbled, his arms folded. “My team will join you.”

Rodimus nodded. “Thank you, all. Metroplex?”

“Here.”

“Could you help analyse the files Prowl sent and the frequencies Soundwave and Perceptor are investigating?”

“Already analysing, Rodimus,” the city mech rumbled reassuringly. “Also attempting to establish contact with Cosmos off planet.”

“Great,” Rodimus looked between the faces of mechs who'd seen too much death too much war and yet were standing ready to raise arms again. His spark sank. “Let's hope Prowl was right not to be concerned but I say an overreaction is better than regretting a non-action. You all know what to do, you leave in two days. May Primus be with us all.” 

“Until all are one,” Jazz replied, the others all murmuring the same as they filed out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some rifts are widened others are repaired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//

The former noble was busy carving a crystal commission when he saw Jazz strolling towards him. He levelled a cool gaze at his former superior before returning his attentions back to his sculpture. “Whatever it is the answer is no,” he declared primly. 

“And lovely to see you too, ‘Raj,” Jazz smirked, flopping down in a nearby seat. “How have you been, Jazz? Oh I'm good thanks, and you?” the former saboteur talked to himself sardonically while casting a deadpan look at Mirage.

“I am fine but you didn't come here for small talk,” Mirage countered, his focus remaining on his sculpture. 

“How can you possibly know what I'm here for?” Jazz laughed. 

“You don't do small talk. Not with me. Not anymore.”

“You wound me, mech.”

“I _know_ you,” Mirage corrected. He paused his work and gazed at Jazz intently. “So out with it. What do you want?” 

Jazz’s smile faded and he frowned, visor gazing on the ornate crystal sculpture. “We've had an incident, on Cybertron. Prowl was cut off mid meeting and the last he told us was that Prime and Megatron had gone off half clocked to investigate a mysterious signal and that was the last anyone heard from them.”

Mirage listened, his expression giving nothing away. “Prime and Megatron are bonded now correct?”

Jazz canted his helm at the curious line of questioning. “Yeah, politically but I don't see what that ha--”

“--Megatron is unpredictable and a bond makes the bonded do things they otherwise would not,” Mirage explained coolly. “And have you considered that Prowl's concern maybe influenced by jealousy on a deeper level?”

Scowling at Mirage’s words, Jazz shook his helm. “I had considered it but I know Prowl almost as well as I do Optimus and no matter what his feelings towards the Prime used to be, he has accepted things as they are and he would never let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty. You know that. That's why Optimus felt he could do this with ol’ Megs, Prowl didn't put up a fight.”

“It was not like he had a choice,” Mirage countered. “Choose between the desires of your spark or the assured peace, security and ultimately survival of your entire species. Something many of us have had to do. Not even you would have chosen differently.”

Mirage’s words struck a chord with Jazz and he was reminded of how much they had drifted apart and how badly he had taken the revelation that Mirage was bonded to a con before the war ended. “That maybe so but Prowl is beyond professional. Whatever his feelings may be if he's concerned, I'm concerned,” Jazz replied succinctly. “We're sending a team. Small select group. See what's what, Rodimus requested I ask--”

“--So you did not want to ask me.”

Jazz sighed. “Raj, I know you like your time and space to be yours now, I didn't want to force you to be involved in something you walked away from.” 

“You did not ask me because of how you feel about me and my relationship, even now,” Mirage gazed at Jazz and pursed his lip components. “Do you honestly think I would put my own personal feelings above that of mechs whom I respect? Not telling you was a choice. A bad choice. You cannot tell me you would have chosen differently in my situation,” the noblemech bowed his helm slightly. “That's all I did my whole life though, put myself first, so why would you think any differently than the rest of them.”

“‘Raj, I…”

The former noble shook his helm. “You still do not trust me after all that we have been through. This is why I have never told you who... I always knew you were many things but a hypocrite?” Mirage sighed and turned away from Jazz. “I think you should go.”

Jazz opened his mouth to reply but no suitable words came to the fore. His reaction to Mirage’s relationship with an unnamed con, toward the end of the war had been explosive and he had confined the spy to monitor duty. He had taken it as a betrayal of his trust, a betrayal of the Autobots and had treated Mirage as the traitor he considered him to be, at the time. Since then things had changed, Jazz had changed, his own relationship with Soundwave demonstrating that fact. Yet he had never approached Mirage to apologise nor ask forgiveness, at the time he was justified and no matter how much he had hurt his former friend he would not take that back. It wasn't like Mirage had approached him either, too proud and humiliated to apologise to Jazz. Maybe he thought he didn't need to apologise and that was why things had not been repaired between them. Accepting the failure on his part for what it was, in spite of his spark urging him to try to breach that rift, Jazz nodded once and got up. He looked at Mirage just once and their optics met briefly, both of them studying the other before Jazz turned on his heel and walked away. 

Mirage sighed and watched him leave, his optics dim. Opening his comm. he spoke softly. //We need to talk.// 

****  
Bumblebee groaned as he pushed the debris off him. “Prowl? Starscream?” he choked out hoarsely. 

“Urgh… here,” Starscream rasped. “What the scrap was that?” he uttered, getting to his feet and flaring out his wings stiffly. “Feel like I was hit by Astrotrain.”

“Was hoping you could tell us,” Bumblebee looked around the dimly lit room, the lights flickering haphazardly. “Prowl?!” he shouted, receiving a low groan from a pile of debris for his trouble. 

“Over here,” Starscream used his larger frame and strength to lift off the thick panelling. “Lying down on the job I see,” he smirked down at the Praxian. 

Prowl gave the Seeker a flat stare before accepting the offered hand and getting to his feet. His sensor panels fluttered to shake off the dust and shrapnel and he frowned at the destruction. “Status?” 

“Well you’re caring as always,” Starscream chortled sarcastically. 

“Unhurt,” Bumblebee reported. “What happened?” 

“An attack, obviously,” Starscream answered dryly. “How you bots survived the war as long as you did is beyond me.” 

“Starscream, can we focus?” Prowl chided firmly. “Scanners revealed a power surge from Kaon. The attack must have originated from there. I need to access Cybertron’s mainframe to analyse the status of our surveillance drones.”

“Nothing is operating in here, chances are power is out through the whole palace,” Bumblebee pointed out.

Starscream huffed. “Not everywhere,” he declared giving Prowl a pointed look. 

Bumblebee gave them each a glance, “Care to fill me in?”

“Tactical was upgraded to ensure a separate power supply in case of an attack,” Prowl explained, having the courtesy to look contrite. “We felt it prudent not to inform anyone… just in case…” 

“We?” Bumblebee pressed with a frown. 

“Red Alert, Starscream and myself.”

“Wow,” Bumblebee shook his helm. “So much for mutual collaboration and working together.” 

Prowl frowned. “It was necessary to ensure the protection of peace and the security of Cybertron. Neither Optimus nor Megatron could be told.”

“But Starscream? You trusted Starscream over us? No offence, but you left the cons for a reason, or so I thought.” 

“Oh none taken, the feeling is entirely mutual towards you bots,” Starscream replied demurely. 

Prowl shot the Seeker a ‘you are not helping look’ before continuing. “It was in the interest of mutual collaboration. Our respective leaders were responsible for the war in which we spent most of our lives fighting and for the losses we have all suffered. We vowed never to let that happen again. We do not want war, Bumblebee and peace was too valuable not to protect. I apologise for not informing you or the others but I honestly… hoped there would not be a reason to use it.” 

“This is not okay, Prowl,” Bumblebee insisted, knowing he had lost this argument. “Especially as you already betrayed the cons…” he trailed off noticing the brief flicker in Prowl's optics and the hurt that rippled momentarily through his field before it was pulled in tight.

“I am aware of your personal feelings in this matter, if you must know, I wanted no part of this war, my hand was forced by the Autobot destruction of my ship killing my family, stranding me in Kaon. After Praxus however my calculations told me that joining the Autobots expedited the war’s end, that was why I initially defected. Perhaps you can now see how our caution has worked in our favour this time?” Prowl’s sensor panels twitched. “Besides, there are two others who were instructed to inform you and Rodimus should anything happen to me.”

Bumblebee stared at Prowl incredulously, having not known the specifics of the mech’s past. His spark ached at his earlier harsh words as the Praxian placed a hand over his chest where his spark lay.

“I can no longer keep the secrets that you fear me of keeping, Bumblebee. You seem to demand my trust and yet you do not return it. My loyalty is to two, there are no factions any more, you would do well to remember that,” Prowl continued, his tone firm and yet tinged with a sadness Bumblebee could not place. 

“As much as I enjoy your lectures,” Starscream interrupted. “Shall we?”

Prowl nodded curtly. “They have secured tactical. The area is apparently clear. There has been no further attacks, we can go.” 

Starscream swept past the former Autobots impatiently, as Prowl approached Bumblebee. 

“Bee, I have never asked for your trust before. I have always expected, no insisted upon it since joining the Autobots, even though I had not earned it. I was arrogant… so certain of my calculations gaining your respect and trust was secondary,” Prowl paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I however have a life I do not want to lose now. I do not want another war and I will do everything in my power to prevent it so I am asking you now. Please, trust me?”

Bumblebee met Prowl's earnest gaze and was surprised at the unspoken emotion he saw swirling in those cool blue optics. “Full disclosure from here on out,” he demanded gently. 

“Full disclosure,” Prowl agreed. He placed a hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder. “You have my word.”

Bumblebee grinned a little. “We should go, Starscream’s lectures are way worse than yours.” 

Prowl’s mouth twitched into half a smirk as they headed out together. “Yes, they are quite painful to the audio, akin to the yowling of a feral cybercat,” he quipped lightly. 

Guffawing a laugh at Prowl's comparison Bumblebee could only agree. “Wait he lectures you?” he asked in surprise. 

“Every chance he gets. The insufferable mech revels in it.”

“What the frag for,” Bumblebee laughed. 

“That is a story for another time,” Prowl replied. “Or you could just ask the twins, they seem to delight in embarrassing me,” he replied with fond resignation. 

“I think I'll do that,” Bumblebee smiled, more than relieved that Prowl's bond to the twins, while entirely unexpected by everyone, had helped soften the mech’s rigid edges. It was one of the only reasons he trusted Prowl now. The twins almost acted as Prowl's moral compass, keeping him grounded, reminding him that there was something worth living for. After Optimus had bonded to Megatron to ensure peace, everyone had watched Prowl try to hold it together. Bumblebee had been worried that the mech would snap and give in to his more sociopathic tendencies but then after a vorn of watching him internally struggle and crumble with his spark felt loss - some had even suggested that he had been spark bonded to the Prime and that he had allowed its dissolution for the political bonding - something had changed in Prowl. It was only recently that his bond to the twins had come to light and Bumblebee didn’t know how true the rumours were about Prime and Prowl and didn't care. Prowl had regained his confidence and composure through the twins. However mismatched the three seemed, the twins completed Prowl and Bumblebee was definitely happy for all three of them. He just hoped this attack was not the start of something worse. Their civil war had nearly torn them apart, Bumblebee knew they would not survive another.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to use the space bridge due to a power failure, the Earth team travel the long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak// 
> 
> ::bond speak::

“Ready for the trip?”

“Omega always ready.”

“Good to know,” Jazz patted Omega Supreme’s hull and glanced over at Ironhide and Chromia saying their goodbyes. He threw them a friendly wave and started when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around he glared at the other mech. “Primus, you trying to give a mech spark failure?” 

Soundwave canted his helm. “Apologies. You did not return to quarters last cycle.”

“Last night,” Jazz corrected, amused at how Soundwave still refused to use earth timings despite living on earth. “Yeah I'm sorry. I didn't want you to try and persuade me not to leave.”

“Persuading Jazz of anything: impossible,” Soundwave replied. 

His mask stilted his speech patterns but Jazz chuckled at the teasing tone he recognised. “That your way of calling me a stubborn aft?”

Soundwave simply took hold of Jazz's hand and tugged him closer, uncaring that curious optics were watching. “Jazz, stay safe. Do not be reckless.”

“Yeah Yeah I know,” Jazz dismissed the concern only to pause when Soundwave squeezed his hand tightly. 

“Not at war. Unnecessary risks irrelevant.”

Jazz nodded more somberly this time. “I'll be careful. Promise.” 

Their helms touched and rested there briefly before Soundwave pulled away. “Laser beak going with you.” 

“No. Nu uh, no way. It's too dangerous,” Jazz shot back with a frown. 

“You will need a scout,” Soundwave countered. “She is the best. She can look after herself,” he argued, his statement punctuated by an insistent squawk from Laserbeak. 

Jazz sighed as the cassetticon fluttered down and perched on his helm. “I hate it when you spring things like this on me. A little warning next time?”

“Warning was prepared. Last night,” Soundwave countered.

Jazz met his gaze and knew he was smirking behind that mask. “It's a good job I like you you know that?”

Soundwave stepped into Jazz's space, his voice dropping a little lower, a little softer, much more intimate. “Correction: Jazz loves Soundwave.” 

The glow of Jazz's visor softened and he gazed into Soundwave's ruby visor. “Never could win an argument against ya,” he murmured softly. 

A clearing of intakes drew them apart and Jazz threw a dark look at a deviously smirking Ratchet. “Rodimus wants to speak with us before we head off,” the medic informed them. “If you can spare a klik,” he added teasingly. 

“I'll be right there,” Jazz answered. His focus returned to Soundwave, who was already a picture of professionalism. “Duty calls. Don't wait up.” 

Soundwave nodded and tapped his audio finial, the unspoken signal of keep in touch. Jazz knew Soundwave would not rest until he returned just as Soundwave knew Jazz would not stay in touch as much as he should. Their relationship was a constant tug between them for control. Their positions in the war had not allowed them to trust anyone. It had been that mutual understanding that had brought them together. An understanding very few others would have. It made for an interesting and often challenging relationship yet a strangely fulfilling and never boring one. Soundwave was as predictable as Jazz was not. They were two halves of the same spark and they fit. Not quite perfectly but better than many did. Though Jazz had resisted it, actively fought against it for a long time, Soundwave knew they could each be with nobody else. 

****

The journey to Cybertron was uneventful, quiet and being cooped up in one space was not one of Jazz's favourite things to do. He made the best of it though, listening to music, sitting in the cockpit of Omega Supreme’s alt mode. Peering out into the inky blackness, he spied Astrotrain on their wing. He hadn't seen the combaticons before setting off, they had made their own preparations. For all their mutual collaboration there was still a clear divide between the former Autobots and former Decepticons. They may have removed their faction symbol but at spark every mech remembered the faces of those who had been his enemy. 

Jazz sighed softly. Progress had been slow. Three steps forward, two steps back at every hurdle. Political bondings had been heavily encouraged among the former command staff of each faction. Both Optimus and Megatron believed that having mutually invested interest would prevent mechs from picking up arms and turning them against one another again. They had also wanted their command staff to set the example for others to follow, to help ease the transition into peace. Jazz had found it hard to adjust and had resisted it for as long as he could. 

It had been Soundwave in the end that had broached that war induced rift between them, with an offer of understanding and non judgement. Even then, Jazz had taken longer than others. Optimus had been the first. As a result, Prowl had abjectly refused to be a part of the political bonding process. His spark probably would not have handled the strain anyway. He had also argued that as a former Decepticon himself if and when he decided to take a mate it would be more prudent to bond to an Autobot. 

Jazz however, had been one of the only ones to know about Prowl's relationship with Prime and the bond dissolution. Luckily they had not been bonded long but his spark had broken for his friend. Prowl had suffered it in silent dignity, not turning to Jazz for help. Jazz had always felt a little hurt by that but had also understood. Prowl was proud, private, just as he was. It saddened him that their friendship had grown apart as a consequence though. 

Looking out into space, seeing nothing but black, Jazz felt his uneasiness take over his sadness. Prowl was not a mech to get rattled and no matter how much they'd drifted, Jazz still knew him better than anyone, except maybe Optimus. Jazz knew him, knew the twitches of his sensor panels which betrayed his worries and concerns and it unsettled the former saboteur’s spark that Prowl had definitely been rattled by something. He only hoped they arrived at Cybertron in time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some disagreements ensue in the tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Bumblebee was amused by the twins already standing guard outside the new tactical centre. He noticed the glance Prowl's way from Sunstreaker and the sly touch of fingers between the black and white and Sideswipe and he ducked his helm with a smirk as he followed Prowl inside. The twins had changed the most in Bumblebee’s opinion, since the war. They had become quieter, calmer, more reclusive. He knew that both of them had returned to professions they'd had before they'd been forced to become frontliners, the war had done a number on them psychologically however. Bumblebee didn't know details but there'd been rumours of anger management, seizures and arrests. All of them before Prowl. It seemed the twins needed him as much as Prowl had once needed them. 

Bumblebee threw them a friendly smile as he walked past, only to receive matching nods of acknowledgement from them both. They looked concerned, serious which Bumblebee knew meant that Prowl was worried too despite not looking worried.

“Any reports?” Prowl asked as he swept inside, coming to a stop beside Starscream. 

“There has been an explosion in Kaon, and Teletraan’s scanners have picked up movement in the lower quarters,” the air commander informed. 

Prowl frowned. “There are no citizens registered in those districts,” he declared. “Teletraan, perform a secondary sweep of lower Kaon, live feed direct to tactical,” he ordered. 

“Understood, Commander Prowl,” the computer responded. 

Starscream flicked his wings. “It might be worth getting an actual visual,” he suggested. “A small scout perhaps?” 

Prowl did not like sending mechs into the unknown, not when they'd already lost contact with their leaders. “Blaster, have you managed to regain communications with Moonbase 1?” 

Blaster’s voice sounded staticky over the comm. “Not yet, boss, nearly had something but all radio signals from the base are silent. I'm trying sub frequencies now with Cosmos’ help.”

Nodding, Prowl looked at Starscream. “I am afraid you might be right.”

“Aren't I always?” the seeker drawled with a confident smirk. 

Prowl ignored him and turned to Bumblebee. “You are the closest we have to ops. Can you take a small team, recon get us Intel we can work with and get out?” 

Bumblebee nodded. “Won't be an issue, my mechs know the ins and outs of this planet, they can do it without being seen.”

“I was thinking more of a seeker's visual,” Starscream interrupted, visibly unhappy.

“No you would be spotted, as fast as you are. If we do have an unknown, potentially hostile invasion on our hands, we do not want to tip our hand. You stay here,” Prowl explained. “Who is your team?” he asked Bumblebee, pointedly ignoring the air commander’s huff and growl of disapproval. 

“Myself, Smokescreen and Tracks are immediately available,” Bumblebee answered. “I've already sent them a comm telling them to meet me here.” 

“We do not know if there are any hostiles, Prowl,” Starscream interjected. “My Trine would be able to stop any rebellion if we find it, the ops team cannot.”

“The probability of it being another rebellion uprising is only 27% while my calculations that we have non Cybertronians planetside has increased to 46%.”

“Based on what?” Starscream demanded with exasperation. 

“Blaster’s report and our inability to contact the moonbase. This is more than just an uprising of disgruntled mechs,” Prowl explained succinctly. “And we are wasting time debating it.” 

“Um mechs,” Blaster spoke up over the comm hesitantly. “Sorry to interrupt, but Cosmos has an incoming signal you're going to want to take.”

Prowl scowled at Starscream their gazes locked in a battle for control. “Put it through,” he ordered.

//Hey there Cybertron, hope you're reading us. Sending reinforcements to help you kick aft of whoever interrupted our chat. ETA one solar cycle. Myself, Ironhide, Ratchet enroute. Astrotrain is on our wing with the combaticons on board. They wanted to help. It's going to be a party. Put out the welcome mat.//

“Jazz!” Bumblebee declared happily. “I'm sure he will join our team.”

Prowl tore his gaze from Starscream. “He will not be here in time, besides he has retired from ops.”

“Prowl he's the best…”

“I am aware, but he can liaise with you when he arrives, we need that Intel before then,” he placed a hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder. “Optimus’ life could be at stake, time is of the essence, before we are subjected to another surprise attack.”

Bumblebee wilted in disappointment. “Yeah you're right. We'll head off after this meeting.”

“A trine would be faster,” Starscream pointed out, folding his arms. 

“The decision has been made,” Prowl snapped, his sensor panels twitching. 

“And who exactly put you in charge?” Starscream demanded hotly, squaring up to the much smaller Praxian. 

Bumblebee flinched when he heard the distinctive warning growl of powerful engines behind him. The twins who had been stood at the door were now directly behind him and glowering dangerously at the air commander. He hadn't even heard them move. “Frag,” he murmured softly. “Let's just calm down. Starscream, Optimus entrusted the running of any enforcer activity to Prowl. We might not be military any more but right now we don't know what we're up against and we need solid tactical info without revealing too much of our own forces. I know you’re a tactician in your own right so I know you understand.”

Starscream bristled, his gaze flitting to the twins. “One cycle your twins won't be around to protect you, Prowl. Then what will you do?” he uttered menacingly, ignoring Bumblebee.

“Is that a threat scrap heap?” Sideswipe bit out. “Please tell me it's a threat so I can snap off your wings and give you the beating you've been asking for.”

“Stand down!” Prowl commanded firmly, holding his hand up to stop the twins. Meeting Starscream’s intense gaze he remained unmoved, showing neither submission nor threat. “I will continue to do my duty, Starscream; keeping Cybertron safe, ensuring peace endures. Whatever you want to do to me does not concern me. I have outwitted you countless times and will continue to do so. If you'd like me to cite examples please do not hesitate to ask. Now we have a job to do, do you want to help me or do you want to stand here bickering because your ego is bruised?” 

“You're still an aft,” Starscream retorted, lowering his wings in surrender. 

“This should come as a surprise to no one,” Prowl replied blandly. His sensor panels rose up and flicked in greeting as he noticed Smokescreen and Tracks had arrived.

The other Praxian stopped in his tracks and looked between the five mechs. “We come at a bad time? I mean if you guys are comparing spikes we can just wait outside. Not for my sake, you know I'm all up for a spike measuring contest but I don't think Tracks’ ego can take it,” he grinned, unfazed by the matching flat stares from the two officers and the pointed glares from the twins.

Bumblebee could have hugged the blazè mech and chuckled as Tracks buried his face in his palm and shook his helm. Smokescreen at least was still as shameless as ever. If nothing else he could always be relied upon to lower the tone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings and plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Jazz strolled down Omega’s ramp, followed by Ironhide and Ratchet. He frowned at the empty hangar. “Looks like the big guy took all our transports,” he commented as he walked over to where Starscream was waiting. “‘Screamer, you’re looking as impatient as ever.”   
The seeker simply gave Jazz a flat stare. “Your Praxian is in tactical, lording it over everyone else,” he replied with an irritated flick of his doorwings. “I will wait for Astrotrain.” 

“Won’t have to wait long,” Ratchet commented as Astrotrain began to descend into the hangar. 

The four mechs watched as the former Decepticon landed and Onslaught led his team down the ramp. 

“Starscream,” Onslaught greeted tersely, he nodded to Jazz and his team but Jazz was too distracted to notice. 

“Mirage? You came?” 

The former noble stepped forward and regarded Jazz coolly. “I was not about to turn down a request for help.”

Jazz gave him a faint smile and a nod. “Thanks.”

“I did not do it for you,” Mirage replied stiffly. He glanced at Onslaught who was watching them closely. 

“We should make our presence known to Prowl and decide on a course of action,” the combaticon leader stated, holding his hand out to Mirage. “If you would lead the way, Starscream?”

The seeker could not hide his distaste as Mirage took his mate’s hand and they gazed at him expectantly. Turning on his heel he marched out of the hangar, leaving the others to follow at their whim. 

Jazz followed mutely, Ironhide sidling up to him. “Well that wasn’t awkward at all,” he mused. “Thought you said he refused?”

“He did.”

“Might be a good time to let the past rest.”

Jazz frowned. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried?” he bit back. 

Ironhide simply chuckled at his ire and clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Keep at it. Try to remember why you made him your second in the first place,” the old warrior suggested. 

“Think it’s too late for that,” Jazz replied, his mouth twisting. 

“Take it from an old mech who knows, it’s never too late.”

Prowl barely spared them a glance as they entered tactical. He was already plugged into Teletraan, seeing what the mainframe’s drones were seeing. He frowned and pressed the comm. //Confirmed sighting. Not Cybertronian. Approach with caution, Bee.//

//You got it. We're heading into the lower provinces now. Comm silence until we're out the other side.// 

//Understood. Be careful. Suspect they are heavily armed. Image to grainy to confirm.//

Prowl unplugged and turned to the small crowd staring at him. “I trust your journey went well?”

“Pretty quiet,” Jazz answered, stepping closer to greet Prowl with a fond embrace. “Good to see you, mech.” 

Prowl returned the affection awkwardly and gently extricated himself to greet the others as Jazz hugged the twins. He bowed his helm at Onslaught the slightest of smirks gracing his lip components. “It is gratifying to be working with you once more.”

Onslaught nodded as they clasped each other’s arm and their forehelms touched. “It’s been too long,” the combaticon responded warmly, much to the disapproval of Starscream. 

Prowl smiled and bowed his helm respectfully at Mirage. “Mirage, you are well I trust?” 

The noble stepped into Prowl's space and repeated the greeting he and Onslaught had shared. “As to be expected. And you?” he glanced subtly at the twins who threw them a look and a friendly nod. “They are treating you well I see.”

“Yes. We are... dare I say it… content,” Prowl looked at his twins with affection rippling through his field before it was contained once more. 

Jazz watched Prowl greeting the bonded pair and frowned at how close they seemed. He knew that Prowl must have worked closely with Onslaught during his time as a Decepticon but there seemed to be no ill will from the combaticons towards Prowl like he had expected. Perhaps they had known about his defection? He scowled and turned his attention to the scanner reports when Mirage and Prowl talked. Prowl would have likely known about the relationship before he defected and Jazz could not stop the burning feeling of betrayal and bitterness from swirling around in his spark. He trusted Prowl more than he had once trusted Mirage but the fact that neither of them had trusted him enough to be honest cut deeper than he had anticipated. 

“Enough of the pleasantries,” Starscream snapped. “What have you found?”

Prowl moved to stand beside Jazz and sent the images to the holo-projectors. “As you can see there is some unknown interference which is why the images are so distorted. Teletraan did manage to capture a short video.”

“Let's see it,” Onslaught replied, stepping up to the console as the other mechs peered at the fuzzy images. 

Prowl changed the feed and a short burst video filled the screen for all of forty kliks before it froze and went black. 

“What are we looking at here?” Jazz frowned at the blurry bipedal image. 

“It appears to be alive. Not Cybertronian,” Prowl explained. “Ratchet we will need you to analyse the anatomy to give us potential identification.” 

The medic nodded, furiously tapping on his own datapad. “Already on it.”

“It looks organic,” Ironhide mused. 

“Partially yes, especially the helm,” Prowl confirmed. He let the vid play one more time. 

“Wait! Stop go back,” Mirage insisted. 

Prowl did as requested and stopped when Mirage said so. “What have you seen?”

Mirage frowned and pointed. “Look right there, right before the distortion and the vid stops. Can you zoom in?” 

Prowl complied and Mirage growled. “See did you see that?” 

“See what?” Starscream demanded. “There's nothing there.”

“But there was,” Mirage replied. “Prowl rewind and play it slower.”

Nodding Prowl slowed down the vid and they all watched closely. 

Jazz with his augmented visor was the first to pick it up. “Well I'll be, is that what I think it is?” he glanced at Mirage. 

The former ops mech met Jazz's gaze and nodded. “You saw the shimmer?”

“I did, that can only be caused by a--”

“--atom displacement shield,” Mirage finished triumphantly. 

“I'm not following,” Ironhide spoke up with a frown. 

“There was another body behind the first. He shimmered out of view,” Mirage explained. 

“A stealth shield, like yours, altering the atoms of your outer plating to reflect your surroundings, effectively making you invisible unless you know what to look for,” Prowl interjected with realisation. “But that is only--”

“--Yes, exactly,” Mirage folded his arms. “They may not look Cybertronian but they're using Cybertronian technology.”

“That is not possible,” Starscream murmured. He frowned when everyone looked at him. “That is old Cybertronian technology. As far as I am aware, Mirage you are the only one who can still use it. Most of our frames are no longer compatible. There used to be more but they malfunctioned when tested. It was technology we did not really understand.”

“Why not?” Ratchet asked.

“We were scientists we were given new technology that had been discovered as our species spread across our planet. This technology is older than the Primes. It may date back as far as Vector Sigma himself,” Starscream explained. “I will need to contact Skyfire, he had more of an interest in Cybertronian history and its technology.”

Prowl frowned and looked concerned. “I am afraid that will not be possible,” he answered quietly. 

“Why not? Do you have a rule against sharing information now?” Starscream snapped. 

“He went with Megatron to Moonbase 2,” Prowl explained, his sensor panels flicking and dropping lower in apology. 

Starscream stilled and stared at Prowl. “You sent him,”he hissed dangerously. 

“No, he volunteered.”

“If anything happens to him, I am holding you personally responsible!” the seeker screeched before marching from the room. 

Everyone stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Onslaught cleared his intake. “I see he did not lose his flair for the dramatic.”

A couple of mechs chuckled and the tension was broken. Jazz touched Prowl's arm. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Prowl vented a sigh. “We need to know what we're dealing with,” he stated, patting Jazz's hand gratefully. “We must regain contact with Moonbase 2.”

“Someone is going to have to go up there,” Jazz responded. “I’ll prep--”

“--I'll go,” Mirage interrupted. “I was stationed up there for several vorns before earth, I know my way around, I'll get communications back up and find the others.”

Prowl shook his helm. “Finding the team is secondary to communications,” he frowned. “We do not have much in the way of air support should you encounter difficulties.”

“I can handle it,” Mirage replied confidently. 

“We will handle it,” Jazz countered, his visor gazing intently at his former subordinate. 

“I don't need yo--”

“--Ops protocol 23b; do not go into unknown potentially enemy territory without back up. Teams are to be a minimum of two mecha. We will go, we'll cover more ground working together anyway,” Jazz argued, his tone final. 

Mirage simply nodded curtly and excused himself politely to prepare. 

“We will analyse city security, and set up perimeter patrols,” Onslaught stated, leading his team out of the room. 

“Consult with Red Alert, he will need to be briefed on any changes you make,” Prowl informed them as they left, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Onslaught. 

“I'm going to the archives, I think I've seen this anatomical structure before,” Ratchet spoke up. “I'll let you know what I find.”

Prowl nodded and looked at Ironhide. “If you could help the twins inspect our weapons cache and reactivate the palace’s turrets I would be grateful, they have not been operated in some time.”

“You think we're going to need them?” asked Ironhide. 

“It is prudent to err on the side of caution at this point,” Prowl replied. “It sincerely hope we are not forced to use them.”

The twins shared a glance and each brushed their fingers over a doorwing as they walked past Prowl, following Ironhide out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spark to sparks all round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Prowl was grateful for the twins' silent support and he turned to Jazz and canted his helm. “You are troubled,” he held up his hand as Jazz opened his mouth to protest. “It will not do you any good to lie to me.”

Jazz wilted slightly and threw his friend a sheepish smile. “Still can't get anything past you.”

“I shall take that as a compliment. Now talk to me.”

“Now’s not really the time, mech.”

“Now is exactly the right time. We are about to face an unknown who has invaded our home and already displayed aggressive intentions towards us. We need to have clear processors. You cannot function adequately if you are distracted,” Prowl pointed out.

“And what you going to do if I don't talk? Ban me from going?” he asked jokingly. At Prowl's ensuing silence and earnest optics Jazz whistled. “Primus you would wouldn’t you,” he stated rhetorically.

“In the interests of your safety and Mirage’s, yes,” Prowl confirmed. He took hold of Jazz's hand and frowned worriedly at him. “I do not wish to order you as a commander I am asking as your friend. Talk to me, please?” 

Jazz sighed and hopped up to perch on the console, much to Prowl's disapproval. “You drive a hard bargain, mech. You sure you haven't been taking pointers from those twins of yours?” 

Prowl smirked. “Being bonded to them has its perks,” he replied with amusement. 

“I don't doubt that,” Jazz grinned, before his visor dimmed. “Where do I start? So much has happened since you left Earth.”

“We have some time, so the beginning will suffice,” Prowl sat down in a nearby chair, all of his focus on Jazz. They may have drifted apart some since the coalition but Primus be damned if he was going to send his friend up into danger without making sure he was fully prepared to handle it. Jazz was more than capable in terms of abilities but Prowl had noticed more recently in their private comm chats, the mech becoming lost in his own processor, weighed down by survivor’s guilt and regrets that ate at his spark. He has not been the greatest of friends and had not been there as much as he should have been. Silently, Prowl vowed to make amends for that now in the short time they had.

****

“You probably should calm down,” the dark blue Seeker flinched when his suggestion prompted a litany of high pitched cursing. “Or you know, don't.”

Starscream glared at his trinemate. “He is up to something! You haven't been there, Thundercracker, he refuses to let us fly out there, refuses to let us go to the moonbase, he's hiding something.”

“Maybe he thinks you're hiding something,” Skywarp offered with disinterest. 

“Me? Why in Primus would he think that?!” Starscream rattled his plating, affronted by Skywarp’s suggestion. He pulled a face at the matching, knowing looks of his trinemates. “Oh, well. History aside, I have no reason to plot anything this time, why would I?”

Thundercracker smirked. “Why would he?” 

Starscream’s plating flattened with an audible snap and he gave Thundercracker a glare that could cut diamond. “He's always been a schemer, you can't just slap a red badge on scrap metal and stop it from being scrap.”

“What is it those squishy humans say?” Skywarp asked with sudden excitement. “Pot calling kettle?”

Thundercracker tilted his helm at Skywarp. “What does that even mean? What the frell is a kettle?”

“You know? The thing to boil stuff to make their energon tea thing?” 

“Humans can't ingest energon, idiot,” retorted the blue flier. 

Skywarp huffed. “That's not the point, it means he's saying all these things about Barri-prowl, that have been said about him,” he grinned as Thundercracker’s optics brightened in realisation. 

“Ooohh, that's a fairly accurate observation,” Skywarp beamed at the compliment. “For you,” Thundercracker added with a sly sidelong glance at the purple seeker.” Skywarp deflated and pouted.

“What are you...?! I am nothing like that glitch!” Starscream interjected. “Why aren't you listening to me?”

Thundercracker sighed and flicked his wings with irritation. “Because, as much as I am loathe to admit it, Skywarp has a point.”

Skywarp grinned and perked up.

Starscream huffed and folded his arms. “He never has a good one.”

“Well you both scheme and keep secrets and you get frustrated when you're not in control. I get it you want to be doing something but the best thing to do right now is help assess what we're up against by analysing these drone feeds the way only a seeker kin can. Ground pounders won't have a clue looking at the city from above. This is how we can help, not by flying out there and potentially getting ourselves shot out of the sky. We're not invincible, despite what you'd like everyone to think.”

Sulking at Thundercracker’s well made point, Starscream flounced across the room and dropped into a chair. “I still think he's up to something,” he muttered. 

“Of course you do,” Thundercracker smirked in amusement. “You wouldn't be you if you didn't,” he threw over a datapad. “Here, instead of pouting, make yourself useful.”

“Probably only like that because he's still annoyed that Cade didn't tell him he was defecting,” Skywarp snickered. “Ow!” he rubbed his helm where the corner of a datapad - thrown across the room with deadly accuracy - had struck him.

Thundercracker chuckled at Skywarp. “You're on a roll this cycle,” he avoided Starscream’s death glare and focused on the task at hand. They needed to know who they were up against or surviving the worst war in their history would be meaningless. Being prepared was a seeker's specialty, well unless you were an impulsive seeker named Starscream. Thundercracker still swore to this cycle that the mech had been adopted.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time doesn't heal all wounds

Jazz fidgeted and absently petted Laserbeak, who chirred at him curiously. Omega was decidedly too large to fly them to the moonbase and Prowl had been worried they would be spotted and attacked, so Sky Lynx had volunteered to help. Sky Lynx’s interior was much smaller than Omega’s however, only fitting four mechs in at a squeeze. This left Jazz and Mirage sitting in his hold in an uncomfortably small space. The tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Jazz fidgeted.

“Still not accustomed to enclosed spaces, I see,” Mirage stated with vague disinterest. 

Jazz huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, guess not,” he replied, fully aware that Mirage knew that was not the real issue at hand. He did appreciate the attempt at deflection however. 

“You never were good at handling emotionally charged situations,” Mirage continued after several long kliks of silence. 

“And there it is,” resigned, Jazz frowned slightly. “Just say what it is you want to say, mech because I'm not having this conversation at the base.”

“Oh, Primus forgive me if it inconveniences you,” the noblemech retorted haughtily. “Why ever did I think the issues between us were important enough to warrant your attention.”

“‘Raj, that's not what I'm saying and you know it.”

“It's only ‘Raj to friends and all I know is that you have expertly avoided talking to me for over a vorn. Did our friendship mean nothing?”

Jazz smirked bitterly and shook his helm. “Mech I could ask you the same thing,” he pinned the other mech with a cold glare. “How long were you fragging him while under my command, while allowing me to send you on lone missions into Decepticon territory? How many times did you go off comms and go off mission to indulge in a quick frag hm? You expected my trust, my respect and yet you couldn't be upfront about what you were hiding.”

“Seeing how you reacted when I did tell you, can you blame me for being cautious?”

Jazz scoffed. “Cautious!? Cautious is making sure the mechs you work with aren't going to stab you in the spark as soon as your back is turned. Cautious is being careful about whom you put your trust in when sending them off on vital missions with sensitive Intel that could destroy mechs’ lives. You're fragging right I reacted badly. You were fragging him the entire time you were in ops. Did you not stop to think, not even once how much of a liability that made you?” 

“I have a specific skill set. There was no other duty I could have done and I had the right to fight for the cause,” Mirage argued. 

“And I had the right to throw you in the stockade for the rest of your life for treason, mech! Just because you have the right doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. You could have come to me before I placed my trust in you and promoted you to ops, you could have come to me as your friend. We could have worked something out!”

“Oh like you would have done that for me,” Mirage countered angrily.

“I don't know what would have happened because you did not trust me enough to tell me until after you'd placed every single Autobot in jeopardy for your spark’s desires. What if you'd have been caught or he'd turned on you?”

“He wouldn't--”

“-- we were at war! He was a con, you weren't bonded then you couldn't know if he'd turn you in or be forced to torture you for all the secrets you carried. You betrayed my trust, the Autobots’ trust and Prime's trust and if it had been left up to his command staff, you would have been stripped of rank and thrown in jail. You have no idea the damage you caused, how many mechs you hurt. I might have reacted harshly but trust me, an example needed to be made and my solution was much better than the alternative,” Jazz folded his arms. “Yet you still don’t get that. You still think you did nothing wrong, have nothing to apologise for. We were all fighting for something, you don’t get to be special, don’t get to dictate the rules. It was war! How do you not get that? War for our very survival…” Jazz sighed and his visor dimmed wearily, his voice softening. “You got lucky because it all worked out well for you, and because of that you expect me to apologise for how I acted? For protecting our faction? For being hurt? Well I'm sorry, mech. Reality doesn't work that way. It doesn't wrap up with a neat little bow.” 

“I stopped expecting anything from you a long time ago,” Mirage retorted quietly, visibly upset by Jazz's words.   
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

Sky Lynx’s voice broke through the heavy silence. “We've arrived. Time to disembark.”

“‘Bout time,” Jazz grumbled. He let Laserbeak perch on his arm as he moved past Mirage, steadfastly not looking at the mech. Too much had been said and done between them, he had been a fool to think he could repair any of it. 

Mirage managed to maintain his aloof outward appearance but it took him pulling on the bond to take advantage of Onslaught’s unending calm. Still it took him a moment to gather himself before following Jazz down the ramp.

Sky Lynx transformed and swung his head around to Jazz and Mirage as they stood on the platform in shocked silence. “This is carnage,” he muttered softly. “I will guard this platform. As discussed if I have had no contact with you after a breem I assume you both MIA, depart and inform Prowl,” Sky Lynx assured them succinctly.

Greyed out shells lay strewn across the platform. Their bodies showed evidence of a violent demise, with some of them missing limbs or even helms.

“Let’s keep moving,” grim faced, Jazz forced himself to take a step forward and then another, carefully picking his way through the bodies ensuring that he didn't step on anyone, or any part of them. “Laserbeak, see what you can find. Stay out of sight,” he commanded gently, scritching her helm before she flew up and disappeared into the base. 

Mirage slipped on some congealed energon and his engine revved with angry disgust. “Do you think, Megatron...?” 

Jazz shook his helm, his hand reaching out instinctively to grab and steady Mirage. “I don't know what to think right now. Let's leave speculation until we've found something.”

A distant energon freezing shriek filled the air and both mechs stopped in their tracks. 

“Or until something finds us,” Mirage added ominously.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Earth things start to feel hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak// 
> 
> ::bond speak::

“Rodimus.”

The young Prime resisted the urge to vent a weary sigh and kept his optics offline in the hope Metroplex would think him to be in recharge. 

“Rodimus.”

Surely the city former could just give him a short breem of rest? 

“Rodimus, my scans detect elevated processor activity which indicates that you are not in recharge.”

Foiled. “Fine, what is it?” The young Prime responded somewhat irritated. 

“My apologies, Rodimus,” Metroplex continued, managing to sound apologetic at least. “I have lost all contact with Cybertron.”

Rodimus sat up in his berth. “What? Is that possible? What about Cosmos or Blaster?”

“The communication relays are silent. I cannot detect Cybertron with Earth’s orbital satellites.”

“It's gone?!”

The city former did not answer immediately. 

“‘Plex?” Rodimus prompted, his spark pounding with apprehension.

“Extrapolating,” there was a pause. “Likelihood that Cybertron has disappeared or has been destroyed is less than 1%.”

Rodimus deflated with relief yet it was short lived. 

“However, communication silence is indicative of interference by a larger stellar body or hostile takeover planetside.”

Rubbing his face, Rodimus remotely called an emergency command meeting. “Please tell me you didn't wake me up just to give me bad news?” 

“Would you have preferred me to wait?” Metroplex asked, managing to sound slightly confused. 

“No, I guess not,” Rodimus replied sullenly. “Are there any possible alternatives other than hostile takeover or pending doom?”

“One other alternative is available.”

“Well let's hear it.”

“The communication relays were switched off.”

Frowning, Rodimus thought about the possibility. “Could Prowl have done this?”

“Negative, Commander Prowl does not have the authority.”

“Who does?” 

“Only a Prime can authorise such planet wide changes.”

“But why would Optimus do that?” Rodimus asked, his confusion growing. 

“Unknown.”

“Protection maybe?”

“Unknown.”

“‘Plex come on work with me here.”

“I am, Rodimus but I cannot extrapolate upon potentialities when they have never occurred before nor do I have a reference of them in my databases. I may be a city mech with the capabilities of 1000 Teletraans but I am still a mech.”

“I know, sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Metroplex’s smile could be heard in his tone. He had a lot of patience for those that resided within him but they often forgot he was not simply a super computer within a city. A living city was a very different thing. “Your officers are waiting for you in the briefing room.”

“Thanks, let them know I'll be there soon.”

“Already done, Rodimus.”

The Prime allowed himself a smirk at that. The city mech was always that one step ahead of him and yet modestly deferred to his authority and never gave him less than absolute respect. It was humbling to Rodimus who often felt like it was undeserved, and certainly not earned, respect.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

“Frag I knew Kaon was bad but this place still looks like a war zone,” Smokescreen’s mouth twisted. 

Bumblebee didn't say anything as he scanned the vicinity. “The wreckers were here,” he commented. “Their weapons have left a residual signature and they're the only ones still allowed to carry heavy arms.”

“There was a fight then,” Tracks surmised. 

“It's starting to look that way,” the minibot, frowned and held out his hand to silence and stop the other two mechs. “Move, get out of sight,” he ordered urgently.”

The two mechs didn't hesitate. Bumblebee’s scanners, enhanced for scouting ahead could pick up even slight movement from fifty parsecs away so when he said move, they moved. 

Ducking into an abandoned building, the ops mechs waited. Sure enough footsteps grew closer and a familiar mech appeared, escorted by a flank of soldiers unlike anything they had ever seen.

//That’s Optimus.// Tracks spoke over their private comm. //he looks injured we should help him.//

//Do you have a death wish?// Smokescreen retorted. //We're vastly outnumbered and those fraggers look mean.//

//They're much smaller though and I think organic,// Bumblebee pointed out. 

They watched in silence as the strange procession passed them. “Please tell me you recorded that?” Smokescreen hissed at Bumblebee. 

The spy nodded. “I'm trying to send it to Prowl and Starscream but I'm just getting a dead comm.”

“Let me try,” Tracks offered, a frown soon creasing his faceplates. “Nothing.”

“Same here, what the frag?”

Bumblebee pursed his lip components. “Is it just me or does Prime seem too calm for a prisoner or a hostage?”

“Prime is all about the diplomacy,” Smokescreen mused thoughtfully.

Bumblebee scowled at Optimus’ back as he walked through the buildings. “This also begs the other question, what happened to the wreckers?” 

“Didn't see any deactivated frames down there, well, not recent ones anyway,” Smokescreen replied soberly. 

“That means they could still be in danger,” Bumblebee stated. “We need to split up.”

“What? Why?”

“This recording needs to get to Iacon. They need to know what's happening and who we’re up against and if our comms are down you can guarantee theirs are too,” Bumblebee explained. “You two go find the wreckers, I'll go to Iacon.”

“No,” Tracks interrupted. “The wreckers will listen to you when you find them. I'm the fastest and I can fly part of the way, I'll get the Intel back.”

“You have to get past those fraggers,” Smokescreen pointed out with concern. 

“I can handle it,” Tracks answered confidently. 

“Alright, go stay out of sight, don't engage,” he ordered.

“You know me,” Tracks grinned. 

“Tracks, I mean it, we don't know what we're up against.”

Giving Bumblebee a lazy salute, Tracks was gone. 

“You think he'll listen?” Smokescreen asked dryly.

“For his sake I hope so.”

“I doubt Optimus would let those soldiers hurt him though,” Smokescreen pointed out optimistically.

Bumblebee remained silent, something didn't sit right in his spark but it wasn't something he needed to voice right now. “Come on, let's go, we're already running out of time.”

****

Jazz had opted for them to not split up. From the sound they had heard it seemed like the wisest decision. Since then though things had fallen quiet. Jazz didn't like quiet. Quiet implied hiding, sneaking, stalking. In his line of work Jazz preferred to be the stalker but he got the distinct impression they were being stalked. 

“Ever get the feeling you're being watched?” Mirage murmured quietly. 

“You read my mind, mech,” Jazz uttered softly. Despite their grievances the two former ops mechs had slipped seamlessly into roles once so familiar to them. On mission was no place for personal grudges or emotions and both mechs were beyond professional when it came to their duty. That had been the oath sworn by all special ops mechs. It made Jazz feel proud to know that Mirage still adhered to that same code of conduct. 

//Disappear let them think I'm a lone agent.// Jazz commanded over their personal comm. 

Mirage complied and shimmered out of view. //Jazz I'm picking up traces of an energy signature, similar to my stealth.//

//Follow it. Don't engage. Keep your comm open.// 

//Is that wise? If I get caught they could hack--//

//--Then don't get caught.// Jazz responded firmly. //Besides, I can't watch your back if I can't find you.//

//Understood.// 

Jazz's specialised visor picked up the faint shimmer as Mirage jogged away and he continued forward, not acknowledging the shimmer he'd already detected in his peripheral. Playing ignorant right now was to his advantage. The stalker did not know they were now being stalked. He knew Mirage would be angry that he'd sent him on ahead but it was all to lull their ‘guest’ into a false sense of security. After all one mech was easier to attack than two.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From bad to worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Mirage followed the trail until it ran cold and scowled with frustration. He was now close to the main control deck and it was only now he noticed the spattering of energon that stained the floors and walls. It was sporadic, smeared in places indicating whomever was injured was moving. He silently cursed himself for not noticing it earlier. Finding Megatron and Skyfire was a priority over finding whoever else was on this station. 

Hearing noises behind him, Mirage turned and pressed himself flush to the wall and froze. Right at that moment two aliens, approximately the size of Mirage’s leg turned into the corridor. Surprised by their small stature, Mirage made no sudden movements and silenced his vents. He'd underestimated mecha based on their size before, he was not about to make the same mistake. Instead he watched them, listened to them and set his processor working on a translation for the rough sounding language the two aliens were speaking. 

The two beings were evidently warriors of some description and carried large intricate looking swords, almost the length of their bodies and sported a weapon on their arms that looked like some kind of laser. Their bodies looked partly organic with menacing metallic armour protecting, what Mirage assumed to be the more vital parts of them. The armour was adorned with various skulls of bone and protoform on their belts and backs. A warning? Or trophies? Mirage wasn't sure, the practise disgusted him either way. One of the aliens had a metallic looking helm that had tentacle like strands flowing from the back like thick metallic hair. Its face was covered and sharp red eyes scanned their surroundings constantly. The other didn't wear a mask but still had the same strands cascading from the back of its head to its back. It almost made the creature seem bigger, more menacing. Its face was not something Mirage had ever seen before. It had small eyes and a large fanged mouth that seemed to open four ways. Organic flesh laced with metal that glinted in the light. Cyborgs as the humans would call them. 

The aliens passed him and entered the command deck. Discreetly, silently, Mirage followed. Inside, impaled upon large metallic shards ripped from the walls of the base, were the base’s occupants. The despicable display could not have been done by creatures so small. Mirage suspected that something much bigger was on board the base. 

Glancing up his spark pulsed faster, caught in the gravity of the moonbase was Cosmos. He was still in his alt mode and he had been shot. The mech was adrift, yet there was nothing Mirage could do for him right now. A result from his scanners flashed across his HUD. A spark signature in the next room. Keeping a wary optic on the creatures, Mirage crept passed stealthily. On the floor in a heap was a tied up Megatron. The mech looked more than worse for wear but he was alive.   
Mirage moved closer and deactivated his cloak, signalling the mech to stay quiet as he began to cut through his binds.

Megatron's dim optics brightened as Mirage appeared but followed his instructions. 

Gesturing to the other room, Mirage used his fingers to tell him how many aliens and Megatron gave him a dark smirk. 

Megatron got to his feet, not bothering to silence his movements and stepped into the other room. Without a word he raised the blaster - his cannon having been removed as a post war condition - he had stowed in his subspace and fired wildly upon the creatures who howled in anger and agony. 

The aliens were fast but they weren't fast enough and the blaster tore through their bodies. Megatron kept firing until Mirage gripped his arm tightly.

“I do believe you got them,” the noblemech stated with a raised optic ridge. 

“There's more where they came from,” Megatron growled. “Bigger more dangerous, these were just the fodder they left behind.” 

Mirage nodded. “I suspected as much,” he frowned at the carnage. “What happened here?” 

Megatron scoffed impatiently and marched from the command deck. “We were attacked. What do you think happened?”

“I imagine specifics are going to be more useful,” Mirage replied without missing a beat as he followed Megatron through the base. “Such as, where is Skyfire?”

“They took him, did something to his processor. They used him to transport them to Cybertron. Their ship did not survive the crash here.” 

“They left? All of them?” Mirage frowned. “I believe there is one that is still on this base.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” Megatron snapped. “Are you on your own?” 

“Jazz and Sky Lynx are with me,” Mirage explained then he stiffened as his internal comm buzzed. “Jazz is in trouble!” 

“When is he not?” Megatron answered sprinting after the noblemech as they raced through the base. They skidded to a halt close to the hangar deck and stared at the scene of Jazz and Sky Lynx fighting with an alien that rivalled Megatron in height and bulk. 

“What in the name of Primus?” Mirage gasped. 

Megatron gripped his weapon. “Primus had nothing to do with this,” he muttered before rushing into the fray, firing at the creature to draw its attention before launching himself at the alien with a roar. 

The fight was brutal and violent but the alien was outnumbered and succumbed to its injuries when Megatron managed to grab its sword and run it through. The creature screamed and slumped to the ground. Without hesitating Megatron stuck the sword into the creature and sliced it in half. The body split open and a smaller creature twitched and screeched inside before Megatron pierced it through the head. 

“What the frag is that thing?!” Jazz exclaimed, his frame battered and stained with energon. 

“The brains in the machine,” Megatron uttered with disgust. “They control these half organic soldiers with some sort of symbiotic relationship.”

“Sounds more parasitic to me,” Sky Lynx spoke up. “What living thing would willingly allow something like that to reside within it?” 

“Perhaps they were made for that very purpose,” Mirage suggested. 

Megatron growled dangerously. “Whatever they are, we need to get back. We need to stop them.” 

Sky Lynx transformed and opened his door. “Let's go, I cannot comm Cybertron for some reason to inform them what has happened.”

Megatron shook his helm, his optics dimming. “They are making their move. It may already be too late.” 

“Let's go,” Mirage stated. “Sky Lynx, please swing around the base to recover Cosmos. He has been injured.”

“Acknowledged,” Sky Lynx responded.

Mirage noticed Jazz to one side crouching down and lifting something off the ground. His intakes hitched when he saw the broken frame of Laserbeak in his arms. “Jazz…I'm so sorry,” he whispered. 

The visored mech gave him a curt shake of his helm, his expression hard, unreadable. “We’ve got to tell the others. They need to know what they're up against,” he spoke quietly, walking past Mirage up the ramp. 

Sitting opposite Megatron, still cradling the unfortunate cassetticon, Jazz pinned the former warlord with a hard stare. “Explain what happened. Don't leave anything out.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations result in more questions than answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Bumblebee and smokescreen raced as stealthily as they could through Kaon’s war scarred streets. Bumblebee had picked up a spark signature not too long ago and it spurred the two ops mechs on. Bumblebee suddenly skidded to a halt and signalled for Smokescreen to stop. 

The Praxian managed to slide to an undignified stop as he transformed just in time for right at that moment, a handful of aliens, around Bumblebee’s size, leapt out from the shadows. Some were wielding deadly two ended spears that extended to the length of their bodies and others were armed with tapered, razor sharp blades that unsheathed from armour along their arms. Yet, it was the ones with laser guided automatic weapons on their shoulders that Smokescreen needed to worry about as they opened fire. He acted fast and deployed his screens as he scrambled away from their assailants. Their blasters were drawn and the two mechs started to shoot directly at the attacking aliens. 

“Hate to say it, but the fraggers show no sign of slowing down!” Smokescreen hollered, snapping round to shoot another that had blind sided him.

“Try to fall back!” Bumblebee returned, ducking and weaving past a deadly sword. As he moved a rocket slammed into his back and sent him flying through the air. 

“Bee!” Smokescreen found himself surrounded, there was no way he could get to Bumblebee. “Alright you spawn of Unicron, you want a proper fight?” he drew his daggers and armed his rocket launchers and smirked at the advancing aliens. “Let's fight.” 

The aliens went in for the kill but Smokescreen hadn't spent all of his time in ops drinking and gambling. He had learnt to fight. He'd learnt from the best. They may not be at war anymore but that did not mean his skills went to waste. 

He fought fiercely, bravely but he was outnumbered and when a blast partly shattered the struts in his leg, Smokescreen knew this was it. On his knees, he glared at the one alien approaching him. The aliens seemed to respect his fight but they were not merciful beings. Such a fierce fighter would make an excellent trophy. The sword was raised and Smokescreen braced himself, refusing to look away.

His optics flickered and reset as the alien's chest suddenly exploded in a shower of flesh and metallic shrapnel. The creatures howled in anger and turned to face the newcomers. 

Smokescreen could only watch in awe as Springer led his team on the offensive, charging into the fray with a rallying cry. He noticed that a number of the wreckers were missing and he frowned. They must have been attacked when they were with Optimus. Given how they were handling the aliens though, they must have faced something bigger, stronger. That had Smokescreen worried. 

“Plan on sitting there all day hot shot?” Kup shouted over the din of the fight, never stopping firing his weapon, even as he moved to stand over Smokescreen.

“You know me,” Smokescreen quipped, accepting the offered hand, keeping the weight off his damaged leg. 

“Yeah, you're a gambling mech,” Kup replied with a smirk. “So how about you even up these odds for us a little and earn that sharp shooting credential you supposedly have.”

“It's going to cost you,” Smokescreen threw back good naturedly. Using Kups shoulder as a gun rest he began picking off aliens with his second rifle.” 

“Pffft,” the older mech scoffed. “I think not leaving your sorry aft out here to be decapitated is payment enough, so quit all that hot air and make yourself useful.” 

Smokescreen smirked and blew a hole right between the eyes of an alien that had snuck up to the right of Kup and was about to run him through with a spear. “How's that?”

Kup whistled and patted the muzzle of Smokescreen’s gun. “That'll do kid, that'll do.” 

Whirl whooped as the wreckers secured their victory and Springer helped Bumblebee up. “You two are fragging lucky we didn't shoot you. Call yourselves ops mechs? Thought you guys were supposed to be quiet?”

Bumblebee scowled. “Our spy skills are rusty and we were worried about you.”

“That was dumb,” Whirl commented. 

Roadbuster snickered. “Yeah but you did end up being perfect bait.”

“Bait?” Smokescreen bit out. “You think there's something funny about almost getting my head chopped off?”

“You didn't though,” the wrecker retorted. 

“Almost!”

“We had it all under control,” Kup interjected. “Reminds me of that time whe--”

“--However, we are short on time,” Ultra Magnus interrupted evenly. “We need to get to Iacon before Optimus.”

“Optimus? We just saw him. Surrounded by more of those aliens. They looked bigger and even meaner than these guys though, if that's possible,” Smokescreen explained, nudging one of the aliens over with his gun. He was startled when something moved and jumped up at him, snarling. “Whoa!” 

Kup took the full weight of the Praxian as he tried to scramble back and both went crashing into their afts as a tentacled creature crawled towards them, clicking and whistling desperately. 

“What the frag is that thing!?” Smokescreen hollered.

The creature exploded into a myriad of parts that splattered over Smokescreen’s face and the mech stared up into the faintly glowing mouth of Ultra Magnus’ gun as the large mech raised an optic ridge, “Dead.”

“Does anybody want to explain what that was?” Bumblebee asked, hobbling over as Springer lifted the sorry creature off the ground. 

“If I am correct in my limited assessment of its anatomy, based on surviving historical records, it is very likely a creature that used to inhabit this planet eons ago,” Magnus explained. 

“Wait Cybertron didn't have organics,” Bumblebee protested. 

Springer huffed and folded his arms with a frown. “It didn't just have organics. They apparently used to run the show.” 

“Must've been a fragging long time ago,” Smokescreen commented.

Ultra Magnus nodded. “Eons, so long ago that they became myth, horror stories only. I don't think there are any mechs alive from that time, not even Kup is that old.” 

The older mech huffed a laugh and nodded. “You're right there but,” Kup’s optics dimmed. “My creators however, I remember the stories they used to tell me from when their creators were only sparklings,” he shuddered. “They wanted to make sure nobody ever forgot the first war.”

Every mech focused on Kup, for once listening to his story rather than dismissing it. 

“First war?” Bumblebee prompted gently.

“Indeed,” Kup nodded. “The first war. Freedom from slavery. Taking the planet from the slave masters, the overlords and some say who were the creators of our race. Though I don't believe that I do think they dabbled in our evolution,” he looked at all the expectant gazes and shrugged. “I was a third generation free.”

“Free from who?” Springer asked with a scowl. 

“I don't rightly remember what they called them, Stents, Tessents...” Kup admitted apologetically. 

“The records recorded the name, Quintesson.”

“Aye, that's it. The Quintessons,” Kup nodded. 

“If that's true,” Ultra Magnus replied grimly. “Then we are in more trouble than we thought.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to start planning for war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Prowl did not online his optics when his systems booted up from recharge. It hadn't been a full recharge cycle and he did not want to move from the warm pile of limbs he was entangled in. In truth he hadn't recharged a full cycle since Optimus had disappeared and while the twins were being as patient as they could be, it was difficult for them to accept Prowl's worries and feelings for their Prime without becoming overly possessive and at times; jealous. There had even been some minor disagreements and bickering and none of them had had the time to try to smooth things over. The last dark cycle had been the first time they'd had and it had not been planned. The twins had threatened to carry him away from tactical if he did not at least recharge with them. Plans to recharge had quickly devolved into things far more intimate and Prowl had not the spark to refuse them their much needed reassurance that he was theirs and they were his. It did mean that now at his scheduled wake up time, he was more tired. Groaning in protest as his chronometer dutifully told him the time, Prowl responded by snuggling deeper into the mech pile. The subtle tightening of strong arms around him made him smile softly. He did not deserve what the twins gave to him, how much they trusted him but it was not his place to question it. They had told him this repeatedly in the beginning. Despite not feeling like he deserved it, he knew he could never, would never give up what he had now. Lingering feelings and regrets or not. 

His door pinged and Prowl pouted at the unexpected interruption. He had no meetings scheduled first thing yet the door pinged again. Somehow sounding more urgent the second time. 

“Prowl! Prowl please, you know I wouldn't interrupt you unless it was vital, this is an emergency.”

Peering at the door with a faint frown at Red Alert’s - on the verge of panic - tone, Prowl sighed. 

“It's always a fragging emergency,” Sideswipe grumbled drowsily. “He's crazy, ignore him.”

Prowl was more than half tempted to do just that and chuckled at Sunstreaker's grunt of agreement and the tightening of the mech's arms around him. That was until Red Alert started knocking on his door and then Starscream began pinging his personal comm.

//Where are you? Planet comms are down. What is going on? Get to tactical immediately I highly suspect this is another attack.//

“Prowl, Starscream is threatening to rally whoever will follow him and go find the others, can you please not indulge right now?” 

He knew Red Alert didn't mean it to sound like it did but it had the desired effect. Prowl was angry. To be asked not to indulge as though it were a regular occurrence. It was insulting. 

The twins felt Prowl's ire over the bond and reluctantly shifted to let him off the berth. 

Making sure he was presentable, Prowl marched to the door and slapped the release. “Primus forbid I attempt to live any semblance of a normal life,” he snapped, enjoying the bright surprised optics staring back at him. He didn't wait for a reply and simply swept passed Red Alert. “Report,” he commanded tersely. 

Red Alert immediately snapped to attention and fell into step beside Prowl as he delivered his report. 

“Planet wide communications are down as of a breem ago. The executive order was issued somewhere in Kaon. We cannot confirm because we've lost all drone and satellite access.” 

Prowl's spark skipped with apprehension. “We're completely blind?”

“Yes, Sir,” Red Alert’s helm sparked with worry. 

“Stage one,” he stated softly. 

“I'm sorry?”

“Invasion, Red Alert. We're being invaded.” 

Starscream looked up as they entered tactical. “Finally,” he declared, wisely not commenting on any of Prowl's personal life habits. He'd made that mistake once before. Never again. Mech had a long fuse but when it ran out, Unicron would be hard pressed to stand up to Prowl's fury. Besides, Starscream had boundaries and he knew which buttons to press to achieve the results he wanted. “We need a plan. We need optics in the skies. We are a shining target just sitting here,” he summarised.

Prowl regarded the data on the tactical screens, aware that the other two trine members were waiting just off to his left as Starscream paced. “What did you find before the feeds cut?” he asked. 

Thundercracker stepped forward and handed him a datapad. “Large numbers of individual movements. First it was just the organic signatures but then it got weird.”

“Explain.”

“Cybertronians are starting to move with them. Enmass. Last feed indicated they had tripled in size and they were gaining speed,” Thundercracker explained. 

“Where are they heading?” Prowl looked between them, feeling the tension in the trine’s field. 

Starscream clenched his fist. “Iacon. They're marching to Iacon. We've got to do something. 70% of Cybertronians now live in Iacon. They need to be protected.”

Prowl pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Recommendations?”

“Reactivate city perimeter security and raise the walls. Activate surrounding surrounding stasis field,” Red Alert spoke up. 

“Those are war time defences,” Prowl pointed out with a frown. 

Starscream placed a hand on his shoulder, turning the smaller mech to look him in the optic. “This might not be war but whether we like it or not, a fight is coming. The citizens of Iacon are not prepared. It would be our end. We must act. We must protect what too many have died for already.”

Prowl held the air commander’s earnest gaze and saw the reluctance to return to arms, empathised with the sadness he saw swirling in the ruby depths. “Yes, I'll announce a curfew to the city,” he relented, his voice quiet. 

“We need eyes in the skies,” Skywarp added. “Drones are down.” 

Nodding, Prowl looked at Starscream once more. “Go, keep your personal comm open they seem to still be operational.” 

Giving Prowl the subtlest and quickest of smiles, Starscream’s wings flared and he shared a glance with his trine before they left tactical. 

Turning to Red Alert, Prowl gave the order. “Seal the city. Activate the defences. Route all weaponry through Teletraan we'll have to coordinate any offensive manually.” 

Red Alert tapped onto a datapad furiously. “I'll issue a personal comm update via the shortwave emergency signal implementing curfew with immediate effect.”

“Good. We'll need mechs on the ground. Armed. Show of force and to deter any resistance in what will undoubtedly be a confusing and scary implication for the citizens,” Prowl dictated. He hesitated. “Send the twins and the combaticons Ironhide and Onslaught will need to coordinate.”

“The twins?” Red Alert paused. “Are you sure? They're not...” 

Prowl plugged himself into the tactical computer and activated his battle subroutines. “They will do their duty as we all must,” Prowl's optics flickered as he accessed the weapons on the city’s drones and armed them. “Give the order.” 

Red Alert didn't question him a second time and scurried out, still tapping on his datapad. 

Impassive, Prowl began to calculate the odds of fully protecting their city in time. Given that they still weren't sure what they were up against, there were too many variables to consider, even for him. He needed an advantage, something he could work with. //Ratchet, yes I need you to tell me everything you've learned about our ‘guests’ so far. Specifically. How to kill one efficiently.//


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream gets suspicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Overlooking the city’s defences from above gave Starscream a sense of control. It would take an army to breach Iacon’s walls and as the first city to be rebuilt on Cybertron, that was exactly they needed. Those that had made the hard decision to return home and help rebuild needed to feel safe and secure, not like they were repeating the mistakes of the past. Still he was unsettled. There was so much they still did not know about their new opponent. Or even if they were opponents. Though, the air commander mused to himself, their actions had not been indicative of a friendly overture. He felt a tug through his trine link, pulling him out of his thoughts and altered his course to join Skywarp on the other side of the city. The seeker had seen something and was unsure how to proceed. 

::What was it?:: Starscream asked over their bond.

::Out there, passed the outer defences, I saw movement, there may have been a spark signature but then a flash and it was gone::

Starscream expanded his sensors and probed the area but only picked up static and residual radiation from battles long since over. ::I'll investigate, stay here, keep tracking me::

Skywarp didn't say anything. His field simply brushed against Starscream’s, conveying his urge to be careful before it was quickly withdrawn. Seekers were not prone to sentiment, at least, they weren't anymore. In war, sentiment got you killed more quickly than actually fighting one did. 

Accelerating away from his trine mate, Starscream vigilantly scanned the surrounding area. Outside of Iacon were the rough ghettos of mechs and femmes who refused to renounce faction or who opposed the current leadership and called for justice to be served. They were disenfranchised and currently had no voice. Starscream, as much as he wanted to ignore them, also knew they needed to be dealt with. Though his suggestion that they all be pushed into the rust sea had not been well received by anyone, least of all, Thundercracker. His trine mate had a habit of speaking for those unable to speak for themselves. It was an endearing quality but it slowed down the politics of everything. Still Starscream had accepted his point that in order to rebuild, they all had to be united towards a common goal. Otherwise, what was the point?

Catching an errant signal on his scanner, Starscream looped around and swooped lower. The signal reappeared and then vanished again almost instantly. It took several loops before Starscream pin pointed the location of the signal. Transforming he activated his null rays and pointed them at a mundane looking pile of debris from an abandoned ghetto house. Suspicious optics watched him from the shadows but nobody seemed to claim the house. Looking around, Starscream noticed the house was set somewhat apart from the main body of the ghetto and there were no signs any bot lived there. Shaking his helm, he was about to return back to scanning when the signal appeared once more. 

Cautiously the air commander landed and began to walk towards the abandoned house. It was then that he started noticing other worrying signs. A piece of armour plating, a streak of energon and tracks along the ground and through debris indicating a crashed landing. “You are surrounded, I suggest you show yourself or else,” he spoke up, flaring his wings out. 

“Staaarrs...help…. Nnnggh.” 

Frowning Starscream ventured forward and kicked away a piece of corrugated metal with his foot. His intakes hitched at the sight of Tracks half transformed, with a spear lodged through his frame. “Tracks!” he crouched down and immediately began assessing his frame. “Who did this? Was it the aliens? Where are the others?” 

Tracks shook his helm and coughed in an attempt to clear his damaged intakes that were clogged with his own energon. “Prime,” he whispered hoarsely. “Show… Prowl, don't let them… him… nnghh,” Tracks’ words cut off as his frame was wracked with the shudders of a mech suffering spark failure. 

“Tell Prowl what? Prime is he dead?” Starscream asked, unsure how to help the mech, his hands already covered in energon from where he'd placed it on Tracks’ frame. “I need to get you back to the palace, I'm going to have to move you,” he insisted, starting to lift Tracks up as carefully as he could. 

“Arrghh!” Tracks cried out in pain and Starscream froze. “No… No time… they're coming… give this... give to Prowl. Got to stop him…”

“Stop who? Prowl?” Starscream was more than a little confused. Prowl wasn't up to his scheming ways was he? 

Tracks reached for Starscream’s hand and grasped it tightly with one and shoved a data chit into it with the other. “Go,” he choked out. 

“I can't just leave you here!” 

“I… I'll be alright. Always alright,” Tracks threw him a weak yet still defiant smirk. “‘Til all are one,” he added, his optics bright earnest, as his field flared with urgency and fear. “Go,” he insisted again with a whisper. 

Starscream drew back with a nod and squeezed Tracks’ hand with his own. “I'll come back, I'll send help, just stay alive.” 

“Aw… akkk, hurgh, nnghh, dint know you cared… Screamer,” Tracks spluttered a laugh and grimaced as another wave of pain rushed through him. “Tell them I didn't… run… first time for… nnnggh everything.”

“Let's not get dramatic,” Starscream murmured dryly, yet a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stood. ::Skywarp, my location now. Warp:: “You're not a hero yet.” 

The space beside Starscream bent and warped and in a flash Skywarp was stood beside him. “What's the rush? Thought I wasn't supposed to warp anymore?” 

“Extenuating circumstances,” Starscream replied. He pointed to Tracks. “Warp him to Ratchet.”

“Frag, what happened?” 

“Not important right now, go,” Starscream ordered. 

“Star…” Tracks uttered. “Don't trust… he's not--” his words were cut off by a sudden violent seizure and Skywarp didn't hesitate to grab him and warp. 

Starscream scowled at the space where the ops mech had been, marked only by a pool of energon. Activating his boosters he leapt into the air and raced towards the palace. Who wasn't to be trusted? Had something happened to Prime? More worryingly had Prowl done something to Prime? Starscream wouldn't put it past him given the mechs’ intimate history. He hoped the data chit would give him more answers and if it were Prowl behind it, then Starscream would ensure the mech finally saw his comeuppance.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak//
> 
> ::bond speak::

Starscream marched into tactical his optics narrowing at finding Prowl plugged into Teletraan. It was an image far too reminiscent of wartime for him to be comfortable. He looked down at the data chit in his hand and clenched his fist around it. Trust was a rare commodity and giving it to Prowl seemed, unwise. 

“Starscream.”

The air commander looked up at the sound of his name and met Prowl's unreadable gaze. 

“Thank you for ensuring Tracks got the medical aid he needed,” Prowl stated quietly. “He's critical but Ratchet thinks he can be saved.”

“Good. He was in a bad way. He was attacked.” 

Prowl nodded and turned back to the screens. “The drones have picked up movement in the old city of Helex to the south border of Iacon.” 

Starscream moved to stand beside Prowl as the Praxian pointed to the screen. “That's between Kaon and Iacon,” he commented. 

“The route Tracks must have taken,” Prowl added. “Did he say anything to you? What about the others?” 

Starscream looked at Prowl and studied him closely. The concern in his optics was genuine even if the feeling didn't quite reach his faceplates. The seeker nodded after a few kliks and held out the data chit. “He said he wasn't to be trusted, he didn't say who but he also mentioned Prime. Sounds like he's in some kind of trouble.”

Prowl's optics flickered subtly and he accepted the chit with a grateful flick of his doorwings. “Hopefully, Tracks’ efforts have not been in vain.” 

Starscream hummed his agreement, watching Prowl hesitate for a fraction of a klik before plugging the chit into Teletraan’s main console. “Looks like they found him,” he commented as the vid played. It was shaky and there was a lot of interference but it was easy to make out Optimus Prime's unmistakable figure, flanked by a battalion of alien soldiers. 

“He looks injured,” Prowl stated softly. 

“Wasn't he with the wreckers?” 

Prowl frowned and nodded. “Yes. They must have been attacked.”

“You said you'd detected movement in Helex?” Starscream changed the topic. There was no use dwelling on what they could not change at the moment. It was time to prepare for what was coming with the limited resources they had at hand.

“Yes, it appears to be an army,” Prowl declared. 

“Where the frag did they hide an army?”

“It is an army of Cybertronians,” Prowl glanced at Starscream. “This could very well be the uprising Optimus feared.”

“Or they're being coerced,” Starscream suggested thoughtfully. “Think about it, Prowl, we haven't seen any large uprisings. There isn't any bot out there organised enough for this.”

“The Autobots thought the same about Megatron if you recall,” Prowl pointed out. 

“That he was being coerced?” Starscream canted his helm quizzically. 

“That he was not organised.”

“And how wrong they were.”

Both mechs whirled around at the sound of Megatron's timbre. 

“However, what Starscream suggests may be closer to the truth.”

“Where are Jazz and Mirage?” Prowl demanded to know instantly. 

“Floating in space,” came the sarcastic reply. Megatron raised an optic ridge as Prowl's hand twitched closer to his acid rifle, and smirked, the mech's restraint was commendable. 

Prowl kept his field tight. “That will be a problem for you,” returned the simple, yet heavily laden threat.

“We were attacked, there were casualties, they're in the medbay. You actually believed me for a klik there didn't you?” 

“I have no idea what you're talking about, clearly you also need to see Ratchet,” Prowl answered blandly, feigning ignorance. “Can you please clarify your earlier statement regarding Starscream being close to the truth?”

While Megatron and Prowl were talking, Starscream continued to watch the vid playback and his optics brightened in surprise. Tracks’ additional footage as he'd been flying back to Iacon was damning. “Prowl…you're going to want to look at this.”

“What?” Prowl snapped at the interruption of Megatron's explanation but stopped himself from saying more as Starscream replayed the footage and paused the image. “What am I looking at?” 

“This is what I mean,” Megatron vented a weary sigh. “Invasion. Of the worst kind.”

Prowl's expression darkened and he clenched his jaw tightly as tension wound tightly through his frame. His next command was low and quietly urgent, “Get everyone here. Now.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more unto the breach dear friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //comm speak// 
> 
> ::bond speak::

Jazz's scowl had only deepened as Megatron explained to everyone else what had happened to him and to Optimus. The mech had already explained things back on Sky Lynx but that didn't make it any easier to listen to. Due to the lack of comms, Prowl had called in those on the ground so they could all be briefed on the situation. The room was filled with grim faces as Megatron finished and silence reigned. 

“So what exactly am I hearing here?” Ironhide asked. “We can't trust Optimus? Because, no offence, coming from you it seems a tad suspect to me.” 

Megatron's mouth twisted. “Oh none taken, I mean obviously it's all in my nefarious master plan. Who would know? Oh wait… my bond mate would,” he finished with a glower. 

“Prowl, you just going to sit there?” Ironhide deflected the sarcasm, his temper rising. 

“What Megatron says is true,” the Praxian stated quietly. 

“You're agreeing with him? You're saying we can't trust Optimus?!” 

“I am saying he has been compromised and it is uncertain how much control he actually has,” Prowl countered tersely. 

“Of course, former con. One with a grudge of a broken spark, course you'd turn on him,” Ironhide snapped. 

“‘Hide,” Jazz growled out softly. “You're out of line.”

“He's out of line! This whole fragging situation is out of line! I want slagging proof before you go accusing Prime!”

Prowl gave Starscream a look and the Seeker activated the screen in the middle of the room. Tracks’ recording played out and the image while slightly distorted, clearly showed Optimus tracking him and throwing the spear that had sent him crashing to the ground. The rest of the image was from Tracks’ point of view as he was attacked by alien soldiers before managing to escape. The entire time Optimus had been stood over him, simply watching. 

“So it is true,” Onslaught rumbled as Ironhide sank down in his seat. He sympathised a little with the older mech, it was hard when you lost that faith in your leader. He pointedly did not look at Megatron. “What is the plan?” 

All optics turned to Prowl but the Praxian looked deep in thought and a million miles away. 

Jazz didn't hesitate. “We stick to the plan and stop them entering the city,” he idly tapped on the desk lightly, partly to centre his thoughts, partly to draw Prowl out of his. “Ratchet what's your take on the thing we brought back?” 

Ratchet pulled up his data and threw it up on the screen. “The soldiers seem to be used as living armour. They're sapient beings in their own right but how much of them is themselves and how much is the thing inside of them, I can't determine.” The medic looked around the room, “Anyone squeamish to an organic autopsy, I suggest you look away now.”

Nobody did.

“The creature you brought seems to be the controlling mind. It's tissue is similar to that of the human brain and is vastly unprotected. Which explains why it uses hosts. It has robotic components, not many but some of its anatomy tells me it once had more. I ran the DNA sequence against our entire medical database and we got one hit. I ran it three times because I did not believe it.” 

“We know who they are?” Jazz prompted.

Ratchet nodded. “Though I'm not sure knowing will do us much good. They're ancient and there's no information beyond their DNA, their name and the limited history of them we have left in the archives.” 

“A name will do,” Onslaught added.

“Quintessons.”

The room erupted with questions and protests and Ratchet simply waited them out. “The DNA does not lie.”

“It's impossible,” Ironhide uttered. “They're the stuff of scary stories. They were driven from Cybertron when our race was just taking its first steps.”

Ratchet nodded. “I'm aware of that and with Blaster’s help I managed to get a signal through the space bridge to Earth. Percy has done research of his own with Soundwave and they sent a short wave message back. It's just audio.” 

“Play it,” Megatron ordered. 

The speakers burst with static before clearing up and Perceptor’s voice became more recognisable. 

“... the findings are indeed remarkable. From my studies I always knew it were possible but I did not think it would happen in my lifetime--”

“--Digression.”

Jazz ducked his helm with a faint smile at the quiet chastisement from Soundwave. The mech did not like deviating from a task. His smile soon faded as his spark twisted with grief at how badly he'd failed him. 

“Ah yes, apologies,” Perceptor continued. “As I said we analysed the frequencies of the original message you received and we found correlations not only to our own communications network but with our personal comms too. In the base coding. This is coding that has been used since our species was created. Now I know what our stories tell us that there was an evil before our race and Primus drove it away. However, scientists in the past have shown that our planet which is said to be Primus’ body itself, is actually made up of organic elements and while we as a species were created here it is my theory that these creatures were here as life first sparked on Cybertron. They may have simply been opportunistic finding a planet but the fact of the matter is, our species, our very base coding was manipulated with theirs and became intertwined with theirs. It changed our evolution. We have no way of knowing how it changed only that our species started rapidly evolving very early on in our development until we reached the point we are at now. Vector Sigma is the only thing on Cybertron that does not share base coding with the creatures therefore I can only conclude they arrived here and took advantage of a young defenceless species before it even became sapient. In fact their meddling might be the very reason we evolved sentience in the first place. That being said, they were on Cybertron for millions of Earth years and it is my theory that Cybertronians of that time were enslaved and used as host experiments before an uprising drove them off the planet. Most of our current technology has probably derived from what they left behind and if they have returned to reclaim it and us then we are at a severe disadvantage as they were already technologically more advanced than we were, if they have evolved further then…” Perceptor trailed off nervously. 

“Speculation,” Soundwave stated. “Analysis of frequencies determine them to be unchanged from what first originated on Cybertron. Conclusion: evolution has not occurred in their technological advancement.” 

Ratchet ended the play back and nodded. “My findings confirmed theirs and even though they may not have evolved technologically, their DNA has and they have mastered their host abilities which means they have inherited any technologies from the species they control.”

“Do you believe they are controlling Optimus?” Prowl asked, breaking his silence. 

Ratchet met his gaze and nodded. “I think it very much within their capabilities. I also believe they're connected via a hive mind given my analysis of the brain tissue. I theorise that if we kill the leader, the others will lose direction become unfocused and be easier to kill. I am only assuming their leader has taken Optimus however, it makes the most sense.”

“Why weren't you possessed or taken as host?” Jazz asked Megatron suspiciously. “Why take Prime and not you?”

“All I know from over the bond is that Prime tried to talk to them,” Megatron pulled a face. “Diplomatic as ever.”

“Let me guess, you opted for the shoot first make friends later approach?” Jazz replied. 

“You saw what was on that moonbase. Would you have tried to reason with them?” Megatron argued defensively.

“Can't you contact him?” 

Everyone stared at Sunstreaker for his interrupted question, directed at Megatron. “I mean, you're bonded to him, Optimus, you could reach him. A host can take over the processor but it can't take over a spark,” the twin added, not meeting Prowl's bright optic’d gaze of surprise. 

Megatron canted his helm. “I could try. We…” he squirmed a little. “We don't usually communicate with each other over the bond. Occasionally feelings, not much else.” 

“That's unhealthy,” Ratchet commented with a raised optic ridge. 

“Not my choice,” Megatron countered throwing a side long look at Prowl. 

Jazz watched them with a critical optic and did not miss how the twins shifted to a decidedly, if subtly more aggressive stance when Megatron stood. 

“If you don't mind, I would rather have privacy,” he announced. 

Nobody stopped him but Onslaught did return to the pressing matter at hand. “What is the plan?” 

Prowl stood and walked to stand beside a long window giving them a view of Iacon. 

The other mechs looked uncertainly at each other and at Prowl. Starscream scowled and was about to speak when Thundercracker touched his arm and discreetly shook his helm. Jazz was the only one who moved. He stood beside Prowl and placed his hand on Prowl's back just below his doorwings. Comforting yet also drawing attention to the here and now. 

“I'm sorry about Laserbeak,” Prowl murmured, his optics dim. 

Jazz nodded and flared his field with gratitude, laden with his grief. “I won't let it be for nothing,” he replied. “Mechs need a decision and Megatron is compromised. I know this is hard--”

“--he would be proud,” Prowl interrupted. “This was all Optimus ever wanted.” 

Jazz canted his helm at his friend, just waiting for Prowl to finish as he knew he would. 

“Until all are one,” Prowl turned and looked towards the others starting to shift and murmur impatiently. “Well, it would seem that we are... one.” 

Jazz followed his gaze and nodded with a small sad smile as his gaze was drawn to Mirage subtly holding Onslaught’s hand. “That we do seem to be.”

“Destroying everything we've sacrificed for would break his spark,” Prowl continued, looking down at his hands. 

“So what's the order?” Jazz prompted gently. He watched as Prowl straightened and his doorwings flared out, his emotions and his spark being visibly pushed aside for what they all knew must be done, just nobody wanted to be the one to say it. 

“We stop him. We stop them all.”

“Are you sure, mech?” Jazz asked, seeing the pain in Prowl's optics as he looked into his visor. 

“We fight.” Prowl walked back to the table and regarded them all in turn, his optics falling and lingering on the twins last of all. “We stop him. We stop them. No matter the cost. What we have built is worth too much, is too precious for us to fail. We fight.” 

“Finally a sensible decision,” Starscream muttered. 

Jazz nodded, buoyed by a renewed sense of purpose. “For Laserbeak and Tracks.”

“For Skyfire,” Starscream added fiercely. 

“For Prime,” Ironhide declared.

“For Cybertron, for our home,” the twins added, their optics pinned on Prowl. 

Prowl nodded. “All are one.”

The statement made everyone's spark flare with pride, hope and determination to preserve what they'd taken so long to achieve.

“Well, mechs,” Jazz put on his trademark grin. “We have a lot to plan and our uninvited guests are about to crash our party. Let's get to it.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::bond speak::

::I know you don't like us talking this way but… the situation calls for desperate measures::

::Megatron… I am trapped::

::Yes. We know about the creatures. They take hosts::

::Not just hosts. They invade their mind, bind to their spark so they cannot be removed unless they will it.:: 

::That we did not know. We hoped it could be removed...::

::It is too late for that. Megatron, these beings they care not for peace or freedom. They have been here before, they have enslaved so many but they're dying. Their race is dying. We can end their reign here. Once and for all::

::Ratchet believes the leader has taken you and that they are all connected.::

::He is, as ever, astute. Destroy the head, the body will fall.::

::But what about you? Us?::

::We both knew this day would come. My enemy, my friend, my bond mate. We broke the world and even though we have helped pave the way in reforging it, the energon of our people stains our hands, our sparks. Our time has passed. Primus calls us home.::

::Justice must be served.:: Megatron agreed with quiet acceptance.

::Too many have died in our names.::

::I am tired of fighting. I am not afraid. I am ready.::

::You will not be alone.::

:: Optimus, what of the others? Of him?::

::Everything must end. Most will understand. In time… even Prowl… I have caused enough pain. They all deserve to live and love as Primus intended. We will all be united in the well at the end of all things. Until then. It is time for them to let go of the age of Primes and move forward into a brighter future. The future we always strived for.::

::When did we lose our way?::

::When we lost sight of each other, but our paths are one again. I am ready, Megatron. Do not let these beings use me to destroy what we hold dear. I yearn for peace.::

::I won't let them win.:: 

::Together we stand.:: 

::They shall fall.::


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle

The alert sounded sooner than anyone had wanted it to. The invading forces were at the gates of Iacon and they were doing considerable damage. The city’s defences could only target so many. Too many innocents had already been taken as hosts and were now dying for the alien masters, desperate to get into the city at any cost. 

Prowl was on the roof of the Grand Palace spire with his sniper rifle. He had opted to take what would have been Bluestreak's role, had the mech still been around. As comms were down tactical was not much use beyond the planning stage. This was where he would make the most difference. 

On the ground Jazz stood beside Megatron as he tried to persuade the mech not to join the fight. He was grateful that Rodimus had managed to send additional forces through the space bridge, having finally gotten it working but any mech could tell it wasn't enough. Rodimus himself had joined the troops from Earth and was leading the offensive from the ground, with Starscream leading from the air. Jazz however, knew it wasn't always about numbers when it came to battles and they certainly had spirit in their sparks. 

“I'm not arguing with you, Jazz. I know you think I need to be protected as a symbol of what we've achieved but I think you'll find mechs no longer need symbols. They need examples. Besides, Optimus is my bond mate, no matter how reluctantly and it is only right that I be the one to fight him, to stop him.” 

Jazz pulled a face but relented, even if he didn't agree, the mech would not change his mind. “Alright, but I still think we should find another way.”

Megatron smiled. “And that is why it cannot be you. Optimus controlled by that thing would kill you before you tried to reason with him. Do you think he could live with himself, even if we managed to get that creature out of him?” arming his reattached cannon, Megatron placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder. “We always knew that the peace would not be for the likes of us. Too many have already died for our ideals. It's only fitting we we sacrifice ourselves for that peace.”

Mirage appeared beside Jazz. “Are we ready to move?” the spy asked.

Jazz nodded grimly. “Stay close, stay low, don't engage. We'll get you to Optimus,” he ordered, switching his visor and frame to stealth mode.

A large explosion shook the city and Jazz knew the aliens had breached the walls. It made sense given what Optimus knew of their defences. He was surprised it took them this long. Iacon’s forces rushed forward to meet their attackers and the battle raged throughout the streets of the city. 

Laser pulses zipped passed them from Prowl's weapon as he picked off the enemy around them. They ducked and weaved through fighting mechs and aliens. Mirage’s invisibility helped get any aliens off their backs and Jazz's quick hand to hand reflexes stopped any from getting too close to Megatron. The large cannon on the mech’s arm was some help too. Breaking out into the clearing before the city square, Jazz spotted Optimus and frowned at Megatron. “Try to reach him, just try.” 

“The bond, we agreed. I--” Megatron relented and nodded. “I shall try.” 

Giving him a nod, Jazz rushed forward, drawing attention to himself as he ran straight into the battle. With the alien forces distracted, Megatron barrelled toward Optimus with his all too chilling cry. “PRIIIIME!” 

Optimus turned and did not get chance to raise his defences as the two titans crashed together and began fighting fiercely. 

****

Jazz fought with the rage he'd been holding in, back to back with Mirage. Their skills far surpassed the aliens and the controlled mecha, but they were soon overwhelmed by sheer numbers. 

“Jazz, I know this is going to sound as cliché as an old romance novel but I am sorry for what I did, for my actions. Most of all I am sorry for hurting you and our friendship. There is nothing I regret more,” Mirage declared over the noise of the battle. 

Jazz gave the mech an incredulous look. “You had me worried you were confessing your undying love for a klik there, mech,” he shouted back, stabbing a large alien in the face in a feat of impressive agility. The alien soldiers were as big as the large one had been on the moonbase but their semi organic bodies left them vulnerable and Jazz was not a mech to waste an advantage. “For what it's worth, I was an aft to you. You needed my support and I turned you away. I shouldn't’a done that.”

“You did what was right for the Autobots.”

Jazz threw his knife over Mirage’s shoulder into the throat of an alien and grasped his arm tightly. “But not what was right as a friend. I'd change that if I could.”

“I guess we'll have eternity in the well to make up for our mistakes,” Mirage stated, grimly staring at several aliens advancing on their position. 

“Let's take as many of them as we can. I never intended to go quietly,” Jazz grinned. 

A sudden explosion rocked the city and Mirage and Jazz were thrown off their feet. The aliens were thrown aside like rag dolls as Ultra Magnus’ large alt mode plowed through them, transporting the wreckers who held onto his sides and stood on his roof, picking off aliens in their path. 

“Jazz!” Bumblebee waved at them from the top of Ultra Magnus’ cabin. “Mirage, you two okay?” 

“We are now,” Jazz commented with mild disbelief. 

“Let's go,” Kup offered his hand, tugging them up onto Magnus. 

“The cavalry has arrived,” Springer snarled menacingly as they accelerated towards the bulk of the main fight.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacrifices are made for the greater good.

From his vantage point, Prowl could see the arrival of the wreckers and how they were slowly turning the tide of the battle. The combaticons had broken their post war oath by combining into Bruticus and we're wreaking havoc upon the aliens’ forces. The seekers were mowing down groups of soldiers at a time, holding nothing back. He felt hope in his spark, quickly followed by a stab of fear as Megatron and Optimus were separated at the foot of the palace and Megatron was quickly outnumbered by large aliens restraining him from attacking. Raising his weapon, Prowl aimed at Optimus as the mech raised his axe. If Optimus swung it was over. The bond would destroy them both. Prowl bit his lower lip as Optimus paused and then lowered his weapon. He did not want to pull the trigger, he was not even sure he could. To him he was still the Optimus who had trusted him given him a chance. Who had loved him.

Megatron struggled against his captors, roaring in rage at the Prime. “Kill me! You want this planet, you'll have to kill me!”

Optimus regarded him coldly. “If I kill you, I lose,” the Prime tapped his chest. “We created spark bonds to bind our slaves to their masters. How interesting you turned them into a symbol of… love,” the alien inside spoke through Optimus with disdain. “You will live with the knowledge that love is why you lost.” 

“No!” Megatron struggled and broke free. He locked optics with where he knew Prowl was on the roof and threw his arms wide and opened his personal comm to the Praxian’s private frequency. //I know you can't shoot him. I took everything from you. Take it back. Pull the trigger.//

//...I can't...// Prowl tore his gaze away, his grip on the weapon loosening. 

//Prowl, I feel him through the bond. It was always you, he wants you to know that. It's time to let us go. All are one.// 

“Love is why you lost!” Optimus boomed, his axe slicing through Megatron's back, not deep enough to kill him just maim him and send him to his knees. 

“NOW! DO IT!” Megatron roared.

Prowl refocused his weapon squarely onto Megatron's chest and with heaving intakes and a twisting spark, he squeezed the trigger. “Love is why we win,” he uttered with a whisper. 

Megatron's chest burst open as it was eviscerated in a shower of sparks. His face was one of relief as he slumped to the ground. Optimus screamed in pain and clawed at his chest, dropping to his knees. 

Having watched the scene play out, Jazz wasted no time in sprinting to Optimus as he sank to the ground. He caught the mech in time to find the creature inside his Prime trying to escape. Catching it in his fist, Jazz crushed the squealing creature to death with no remorse. Turning his attentions to Optimus he saw the mech still online, although barely. “Optimus…he shouldn't have...”

“It was the right… right thing…” Optimus gasped, shuddering as his spark began to follow its bonded to the well. “We did it… all are one.”

“Yeah,” Jazz's intakes hitched with sorrow. “We did. You did.”

“Always so faithful, Jazz. Tell Prowl… tell him… thank you and I’m sorry...do not be angry… this was… the only way… it's time for a new age… a new age to begin… until we meet again, old friend....” Optimus’ hand reached up to cup Jazz's cheek as the mech wept and held it there before his spark gave up the fight and his frame went limp. 

Grey crept quickly over Optimus’ frame and Jazz looked up to find Prowl standing over them, looking weary and older than he ever had during the war. 

“They are at peace now,” he whispered. 

Jazz had no words, only a flare of anger that it had to be this way. Optimus’ words rang in his audio. ‘Do not be angry.’ It was hard given everything they'd lost but Prowl was right. With the fall of Optimus and the alien leader the aliens soon succumbed to their warriors. They had fought, against all odds and they had won.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future looks brighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is something the requester likes. I had fun writing it. I hope you all enjoyed reading. Thanks for sticking through until the end.

“What happened after that?” First Aid prompted gently when Jazz had fallen quiet. 

“Well with Roddy helping and the wreckers, the rest of the aliens didn't really stand a chance. So many were our own though, taken control by the creatures. The ones who survived were taken into custody. That's why Ratchet stayed behind. He wanted to help separate them. Last I heard he'd made some progress,” Jazz smiled faintly. 

“Then there was the funeral,” First Aid hesitated, the memory still clear in his own processor after almost half a vorn. “Are you ready to talk about that yet?” 

Jazz frowned a little and crossed his legs as he tilted his helm at First Aid. “You were there, mech, what can I say? It was a funeral. It was beautifully done and the send off any hero deserved.” 

“Have you managed to resolve your feelings surrounding their… passing?” 

Bowing his helm, Jazz sighed. “I had no right to be angry. Mirage was the one who helped me see I was repeating past mistakes though. Almost lost another friend. Had to let go you know? It wasn't about me at the end of the day. He was suffering more than I, he blamed himself more than anyone else did and I know it broke his spark to do it and there I was making it worse. Typical Jazz style.” 

“He doesn't blame you…”

“I know and he told me as much but it hurt and I had no right to make him feel that way. We're good now though, I think, we talk a lot, I like that he's here.”

“He was gone a long time,” First Aid pointed out.

Jazz chuckled. “Yeah I think Sides’ called it a long awaited honeymoon. They rebuilt an old transport for him, did you know that? He didn't even know until they surprised him with it. This was all before we came back to Earth. We were still figuring things out on Cybertron and Prowl just walks in one cycle and announces his retirement. Mech, you should have seen ‘Screamer’s face!” Jazz laughed brightly. “It felt right and then off they went to the stars together, exploring or whatever they wanted to call it, they took the long way to Earth and I didn't actually expect them to come settle here. Although, I suppose it makes sense given that the twins know Earth better than Cybertron and we did need an actual enforcer for the city. Roddy was thrilled.”

“He's retired from anything to do with command, do you think he's happy?” 

“More than happy. Besides he's running the new enforcer joint,” Jazz let his excitement bleed into his field. “And you've heard the news right? They're the first to actually start a family. Who'd have thought it?” Jazz grinned. “Honestly thought ‘Raj and Onslaught would get there first.”

“Yes I expected Mirage to be the first given how long they’ve been bonded? You two seem better now.”

“Yeah we had a spark to spark. We joke that him staying on Cybertron helps. Distance makes the spark grow fonder and all that?” Jazz smirked. “Sparklings though? That seems crazy a good crazy but definitely surreal.”

First Aid grinned at the genuine happiness he felt from Jazz. It had taken him a long time to find any since the battle. “It is exciting, though I admit I am out of my comfort zone. It has been a learning experience for me.”

“Oh you're doing great, ‘Aid don't worry.”

The smaller mech smiled and made a note on his datapad. “Before we go, did you want to talk about Soundwave or Laserbeak?” 

Jazz's happiness vanished in an instant and First Aid felt somewhat guilty but it wasn't healthy to bottle it all inside and he would keep asking until Jazz opened up even a little. He frowned when Jazz didn't answer immediately and his field went flat. “Jazz?”

“Ratchet gave me a proper coffin to bring her home and fixed her up so Soundwave wouldn't have to see… We gave her a proper send off, she was a hero in her own right. He still doesn't blame me…”

“Of course he doesn't it wasn't your fault,” First Aid insisted.

“I shouldn't have let her go. Should have insisted she stay here or at least back in Iacon…”

“Jazz, Laserbeak survived the Great War, she knew how to take care of herself.” 

“That's what Soundwave told me too,” Jazz sighed. “It's just not fair… surviving all that and then… right before things started to get better.”

“You can't blame yourself, Jazz she wouldn't want that,” First Aid soothed softly. 

Jazz nodded, his shoulders slumped. “Trust me I've been told that too many times. Has resulted in some fights.”

“Are you and Soundwave… are you okay?” 

Jazz lifted his helm to reveal a small wistful smile. “Yeah… the mech. He's good to me. Better than I am to him but I'm working on it. Don't know where he gets his patience from.”

“His spark I would imagine,” First Aid smiled back. “He cares about you a great deal. That much is obvious.”

“More than I deserve, that's for sure,” Jazz huffed a short laugh. 

“I doubt that very much,” First Aid replied honestly. “Oh it looks like out time is up,” he looked past Jazz and nodded his greeting to the other mech approaching them.

Jazz looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Did we overrun?” 

“By an hour. It is not a problem,” Soundwave stated succinctly. “The stars: stationary.” 

First Aid canted his helm in mild confusion at the statement. 

“It's his way of saying the stars aren't going anywhere,” Jazz grinned and took the offered hand to help him stand up. “We have a routine of going for a drive or a walk to look at the stars on a clear night. It's something he used to do with Laserbeak, she loved flying at night.”

“That sounds very relaxing and cathartic,” First Aid declared, getting to his feet. “Same time next week?” 

Jazz shared a look with Soundwave as the larger mech curled an arm about his waist and held him close to his side affectionately. “If it's okay with you, I think I'll give it a miss. I'm feeling… grounded…” Jazz looked at First Aid with gratitude in his visor and field. “You've helped me a lot but I think I'm ready to let go. How about… I'll let you know if I need a casual chat?” 

First Aid beamed at the news. “I think that sounds great. You two go, enjoy the rest of the night. Don't stay out too late though, it was forecast a storm.”

Soundwave glanced up at the sky and back at First Aid. “Storm: not a threat.” 

Jazz nodded. “Yeah, we've weathered worse after all,” he rested his hand on the medic’s shoulder and gave First Aid a squeeze, Jazz was not a hugger but the sentiment was the same. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” First Aid stated brightly.

“Say hi to Trailbreaker for me,” Jazz called out over his shoulder, giving First Aid a little wave as he and Soundwave wandered off into the desert, hand in hand. 

First Aid watched him go with hope in his spark for their future and ducked his helm shyly as he felt a presence approaching, behind him. 

“He going to be okay?” Trailbreaker rumbled, curling his arms around First Aid. 

The medic nodded and leaned back. “I think he's going to be fine.”


End file.
